Uncle Vlad
by MissMeliss4251
Summary: When Katie is sent to live with her Uncle Vlad, she makes it her mission to discover what he’s using his degree in Spectral Research for. But once she begins to uncover his secrets, there’s no turning back.
1. Who's Spirit Is It Anyway?

**Well, as I say in my profile, brace yourself, y'all, because I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever. It's time for me to have fun with writing again. **

**I should probably start out by explaining this has no connection with anything I've ever done. I don't know if this will turn into a series, and though I do have an idea of where it's going for about the next five or so chapters, I don't know how it's going to end yet. Maybe if someone reviews with some suggestions, they'll creep their way into the storyline. It's a bit AU, taking place before Ultimate Enemy, but in the summer between Danny's freshman and sophomore year. I love messing with time lines, don't you?**

**This first chapter is completely devoted to Katie, one of my new OCs, but Vlad will become invovled soon enough, and Danny won't be far behind him. Katie's a bit depressed/whiny at the moment, but rest assured she'll get over it by the next chapter.**

**So...all I can say is please read, review, and tell me what you honestly think!**

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**Katie**

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Everything's fine for now. Here in my mother's church, half my school, teachers and students alike, have congregated to say their final goodbyes. They surround me, each and every one of them unknowingly a thread in the security blanket the crowd is weaving around me.

The security blanket gives me a purpose for the first time in days. Don't cry. Don't let them see. They can't know. I'm supposed to be the strong one of the family. I'm supposed to be the smart one of the family. I'm supposed to be the sensitive one, the stupid one, the outgoing one, the introvert. Every extended family has one. Now I'm basically the only one left, so I have to be everything, or else my family will fall apart.

I know it doesn't sound logical. I don't care. I'm physically in this church, but mentally, I'm listening to a Void. This one mocks me, daring me to come to terms with reality, just as it has ever since that night.

'_They'll send you back_,' says the Void.

'How can they send me back?'

'_They just buy you a plane ticket, give you an address, easy as pie_,' the Void answers.

'I don't even remember it. I don't even speak Chinese. Our parents didn't want us in the first place. They definitely won't want me now.'

'_They'll send you to a foster home, then_,' the Void taunts.

'Maybe I can deal with that.'

'_They'll make fun of you.' _

'Who cares?'

'_You should, even though she wasn't your real mother.' _

'Yes she was. Just because she adopted us doesn't mean she isn't our real mother.'

'_If you're going to be stubborn, at least get the tense right. She _wasn't_ your real mother.'_

The void, a self-proclaimed cynic, doesn't understand love is stronger than blood ever will be. Love can't be vaporized in a gas explosion after you snuck out of the house.

Every weekend since I got my driving permit, my friends and I have been designated drivers for when the school goes out partying as a way to earn some extra cash to spend at Better Buy. Our customers give us a five and their address, and we gladly take them home, sometimes with our mom's permission, and sometimes without.

I viewed myself, sneaking out of my window that night, as saving lives. I never knew it would actually save my life. But it had.

The same can't be said for my older sister and my mother. For the past two weeks, in the middle of June, a faulty wire had been switching our furnace on full blast at random times in the day. Mom had called a furnace repairman, who would declare it in perfect working order, if not slightly outdated. He suggested calling an electrician before packing up and leaving. Later, the investigators would tell me he hadn't properly reconnected the gas line.

Mom and Carrie were asleep when our ancient furnace switched on one last time thanks to faulty wiring. The gas leaked from the loose connection and found the pilot light in our faux fireplace. The resulting explosion obliterated our house, as well as the unoccupied one next door. The Johnsons were on a cruise, and would come back to find a gaping black hole where their house used to be.

Having packed everything of value to them for vacation, they thought it was pretty funny until they heard about Mom and Carrie.

They were sitting three pews behind me, staring with tearful eyes at the two closed caskets to my left, secretly thankful it hadn't happened to them. Don't get me wrong. Everyone who had come to the visitation last night, telling me he or she hadn't seen me since I was _this tall_, was genuinely sorry for me. Except for maybe the lawyer, that is.

But most of them were more relieved it hadn't happened to them. I could see it in their eyes while they told me that I had their deepest sympathies. '_A_ g_as explosion? God, what an awful way to die. Even for that bitch Principal Masters. I wouldn't be here if the Superintendent wasn't paying me overtime. But Carrie Hill was such a beautiful girl. What a shame.'_

Then they'd look at me, smile sadly, and secretly wonder why I hadn't died with my family. I didn't wonder. I only accepted the fact Carrie should've been the one to live. It was like knowing Istanbul was once Constantinople. Most nights like that she would've been out partying with her friends. Instead, she went to bed early with food poisoning, which would prove to be far more deadly than DUI.

At the back of my mind, I'm aware as we procession out of the church, entering cars, driving towards the cemetery.

After all, perfect Carrie was the pretty popular one known for busting out with her break dancing moves in the middle of cheerleading routines. I was the sister who read Popular Science instead of Teen Vogue and hung out after school with my friends at Better Buy and Tech Shack, guilting the salespeople into deals for parts we use in our various endeavors.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, probably to rid my eyes of that strange glazed look. I find myself in front of two freshly dug graves that are waiting for Mom and Carrie. As they begin to lower the coffins into the ground, a priest rambles about eternal life and how they'll be raised up on the last day, whatever that means.

I'm not a churchy person. I want to punch the dumb old guy in the face for staring down at his little book, the proper script for a funeral, and every few seconds pausing before inserting Mom and Carrie's names, which I can see written on a yellow Post-It note at the bottom of the page.

"– for when our Lord raises up…Carolyn and Kamilia, they will rejoice in Heaven along with their loved ones that passed before them..."

Those loved ones were my grandparents, who had spent their final, happy years at a Sun City on Hilton Head Island. There weren't any other dearly departed. Mom's ex-husband left her when we were three, after which she changed her name and ours to her maiden name. Mom's notorious for being cruel, so I don't blame my adoptive father one bit. She gets under your skin and finds every single one of your faults, except for with Carrie, who, according to her, doesn't have any faults. My adoptive father died somewhere in Africa a few years ago helping in a refugee camp, the news plastering a weeklong smirk to Mom's face.

Even though I've never met the man, and consider myself more related to Buddha, every once in a while Mom mutters about what a manipulative sadistic bastard her brother is, telling me all I need to know about that branch of the family tree. Considering her own personality, I'd hate to meet anyone Mom calls a manipulative sadistic bastard.

"…In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

With that, a man with a shovel quickly throws two piles of dirt down into two graves. Noticing the scene for the first time, I looked up into the sky to see dark clouds blotting out the once abundant sunlight.

The crowd of mourners quickly disperses because of the impending storm. The priest, unaware I'm even related to the deceased, drives away without a look in my direction.

Shovel Man quickly fastens two blue tarps over the openings of my family's graves. "Is someone coming to get you?" he asks me gruffly.

I shrug. I don't know, and I don't care. "They'll be here in a few minutes," I lie.

"Want me to wait with you?"

"No, thank you," I tell him.

Thankfully, as though realizing the true meaning behind my words, he nods before turning to leave. "It gets better, you know," he tells me without turning around. Within two minutes, he drives off, leaving me completely alone.

I plop down in between Mom and Carrie's graves in defeat, realizing cemeteries aren't nearly as creepy when someone you love is a resident.

The remaining effects of my human security blanket have disappeared, leaving me to listen to the Void again, this time much more clearly.

'_I bet they'll send you to a foster home far away. You'll never get to see Lincoln again. You won't even get to visit the graves.' _

'How long do I have?'

'_Until that jackass lawyer finds you.' _

'Is he on his way?'

'_You'd better believe it.'_

'How do you know?'

'_You know these things when you're like me'._

'A Void?'

'_Vaporized by a gas explosion_,' Carrie, my sister, this Void answered

It isn't the first time a Void, a conscious spirit, has found me and latched on. It most certainly won't be the last. Eventually, the poor things leave, and most of the time, I really miss them.

I've never had one as pissed as Carrie's. They're usually shy, scared, trying to deliver a message, or just looking for someone to talk to for a while.

But Carrie's is trying to make me feel guilty. Carrie, and maybe Mom, too, definitely blames me for her death.

As though to support my previous statement, a bloodied version of Carrie appears standing over her grave. Chunks of her are missing, most prominently a large hole where her stomach should be. Her blackened skin looks as though it would peel off if you touched it. Her eye sockets are empty.

"You could've stopped it, you know," her enraged voice, echoing slightly, tells me.

"What do you mean?"

"Word on the street is you're some kind of a psychic."

"I'm no psychic."

"Then how are you talking to me now?"

"You're a ghost, plain and simple. You know, what happens after you see the 'bright light'?"

"No, right now, I'm what you'd call a Void. I'm not a ghost yet. I'm making the transformation from a free spirit to a ghost. And yet you can hear me, even see me."

"You're the first one I've ever seen."

"That's because it's my job to make sure you realize what you've done. You knew something bad was going to happen if you stayed in the house. You just didn't tell us and went out to run your little business."

"I didn't know something was going to happen. I swear."

"Yes you did. Admit it. They say you did in the Ghost Zone."

"What's the Ghost Zone?"

"Hopefully you'll get what you deserve soon and find out. In the mean time, I'm going to do everything in my power to make your life hell. My geeky little sister deserves it. Ever wonder why you could hear our voices?"

She was baiting me for something. I could tell by how what was left of her signed eyebrows began to furrow slightly, just like they had when she was alive.

I don't respond.

"Not curious about what Mom did to you when you were a baby, then? Oh, well. The lawyer's here. Enjoy your chat."

With a bone-chilling laugh, Carrie floats away before disintegrating entirely. Death hasn't changed her one bit. She still blames me for everything that goes wrong in her life, and makes sure I know it, too.

Sure enough, the lawyer's Mercedes pulled up on the cemetery's road. Mr. Don Gates, Lucifer Lawyer, as I called him in my mind, rolled down the passenger's side window.

"Miss Masters? I think it's time we discussed your future," he told me, unlocking the door.

Without much choice in the matter, I unenthusiastically got into the Mercedes and slammed the door just as the first raindrop, giving way to an impossible torrent of water, fell.

I took one last look at the tarp-covered graves as Lawyer Lucifer drove the car away from the plots I'd probably never see again. As we turn onto the main road, Lucifer glances at me, obvious dollar signs in his eyes. Just this little cemetery call will have earned him a couple extra grand, the last penny from Mom's dwindling bank account. I turn away from his gaze to look out my window, the new torrent of rain falling from the clouds unable to compete with the monsoon silently pouring from my eyes.

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**I can't rightly say when the next update will be, but it will most certainly be next Sunday, if not before.**


	2. On Spectral Research

Lucifer Lawyer's headquarters sucks.

It's in your standard stiff, unnatural building, which, besides giving shelter to LL's headquarters, houses a dental office, an urologist, and an oral surgeon. The disinfectant smell from the doctors' offices spills into LL's reception area, where I'm waiting for the secretary to wave me into the office.

The reception room, just like the building, is standard. The paint always looks fresh, the carpets always smell new, and ugly dime-a-dozen prints adorn the solemn cream-colored walls. The unlived-in feeling is overpowering as the secretary finally gives me the go-ahead. LL's out of his meeting with a new client.

If possible, LL's office is even worse than the rest of the building. Plaques of his achievements and photos with the influential replace the ugly prints outside. His desk is massive, and he's typing memos into his computer (a Dell) from a huge leather chair. The final effect makes me want to gag.

"Miss Masters, please come in," he tells me without looking up. I realize I'm just standing in the doorway, and make a beeline for the smaller, less plush chair opposite LL's desk. I fixed my eyes to his forehead, a death stare radiating towards him.

Self-pity time is over. My tears are gone. It's time to stop being a wimp. It's time to give LL the trouble he deserves.

LL looked up from his computer, noticed my glare, and sighed. "I might as well get on with it."

I continued my glare.

"Well, your mother left everything to you and your sister, and thus by default to you. Considering the state of your house after the explosion, and your mother's dwindling bank account after paying funeral expenses, debts, legal fees and such, it isn't very much."

"Hope you enjoy buying more ugly paint with my mom's money."

I swear, he almost said 'I will.' Instead, he opened his mouth and closed it.

"So, what's going to happen to me now?" I asked when he remained silent. "Will I be sent to an orphanage? A foster home? Off the side of a cliff?"

The moment of truth. LL glanced down at a few papers, shuffled through them, and then responded. "Upon her death, your mother transferred custody of you over to her brother, your uncle, Vladimir Masters, who lives just outside of Green Bay, Wisconsin."

Whoa. The brother Mom hated with all her might is the chosen keeper of the offspring. The mystery still remains whether it'll be better than being sent to the spice mines of Kessel, but one has to hope he's not as bad as she let on.

Knowing Mom, he's twice as worse.

"Never met the man. What's his deal?"

"According to this file, he owns a few businesses. He and your mother attended University of Wisconsin Green Bay, where they both minored in Spectral Research."

Mom never mentioned having a minor in Spectral Research, whatever that is. Maybe laser brain will know. "What's Spectral Research?"

"The word 'spectral' refers to the electromagnetic spectrum. Spectral Research is most likely the study of light."

How…enthralling.

"Anyway," he continued. "Your uncle has been notified of the situation and is sending a helicopter down to retrieve you as we speak."

"A helicopter?"

"Your uncle is rather…affluent."

"Just what kind of businesses does Uncle Vladdie own?"

"A few corporations."

"You know, nothing big," I muttered to myself.

"A car will come to take you to the airport when the helicopter arrives. You're welcome to wait here until then. They should be here within the hour. If you need anything, Rita is at the desk. I have another case. It was…lovely…meeting you," he told me.

With that, he power walked out of the room, undoubtedly heading towards an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Not wanting to stay in the horrible office, I drifted back into the reception area and slumped into one of the overstuffed chairs. Rita, the receptionist, was taking a coffee break. I picked up one of the outdated magazines and began to flip through it, looking at the ads, critiquing their layout.

'_You're right. He _is _headed towards a buffet,'_ Carrie's voice floated into the room. She appeared sitting in the receptionist's chair behind the desk, messing with a computer keyboard that didn't register her fingers tapping its keys.

'Go haunt one of your exes or something. You didn't like talking to me when you were alive, so why bother now?' I asked, not looking up from the magazine.

'_No one can hear me yet. Only you. I'm sorta stuck until I move on. Then I'll haunt Joe. At least he doesn't wear clothes from Floor-Mart.'_

For the first time, I glanced down at my black funeral outfit. I didn't see anything wrong with it. In fact, it was quite snazzy. Besides, I haven't had the time, or the vehicle, to drive thirty miles to the nearest mall. The clothes on my back, and one or two outfits stuffed into the massive messenger bag at my side, are the only ones I own at the moment.

But Carrie doesn't shop at Floor-Mart. She shops at those scary stores where they blast upbeat music and the sale rack only contains things priced three digits and up.

'I like this outfit,' I answered.

Carrie sighed. '_What else could you expect from a Commy?'_

'I'm not a communist!'

It was Carrie's favorite name for me before death. Mom hadn't adopted Carrie from China like she had me. Carrie was the gorgeous blonde product of a teenage mother and her one night stand. Not that you could tell it from her charred spirit form.

'_Sure fooled me.'_

'You don't even know what a communist is.'

'_Yes I do!'_

'Define it, then.'

She remained silent. She never paid attention in History. All she knew was the word upset me. It was plenty enough for her.

'Exactly,' I grinned.

Carrie narrowed her charred eyes to slits. _'No one likes a smarty-pants.'_

'Colleges do. But you don't have to worry about that, do you?'

'_Bitch. I sure hope that Vlad guy's as bad as mom said. You deserve it.'_

'I do, do I? If you're all knowing, what's with all that spectral research stuff mom was into in college?'

'_What do you think it's all about, miss smarty-pants?'_

'Lucifer Lawyer said it was all about the electromagnetic spectrum.'

'_I don't know what the hell that is, but I can tell you it doesn't have anything to do with _this _kind of spectral research.'_

'What does it have to do with, then?'

'_How bad to you want to know?'_

'If you tell me, I might not use the 'net to learn how to exorcise you.'

'_You mean I'd do that neck spinny thing?'_

I tried not to laugh. 'Your neck would probably stay like that, too. You wouldn't want Joe seeing you like that, would you?'

'_Ohmigod no!'_

'Then you'd better tell me what spectral research is.'

She grinned. _'The car's here for you.'_

'Then you'd better get to spillin' the beans.'

With one final grin, she began to dissipate. _'Spectral Research is the study of everything having to do with ghosts.'_

"Ghosts? Are you serious?" I asked aloud. But she was gone.

Instead, a thrity-ish man in a black suit walked into the office.

"Are you Katie Masters?" he asked.

I nodded. "Who are you?"

"I work for your uncle," he answered gruffly, not even introducing himself. "The car to the airport is this way."

Twenty minutes later, I found myself up in the air, the blades of a helicopter slicing through the air above me. I had nothing to do but wonder. My mom and my uncle both studied ghosts together in college. If they'd been able to study together back then, what went wrong between them?

My mother never talked about it in her anti-Vlad rants, nor had she ever mentioned anything about ghosts. That doesn't seem like something you'd lose interest in cold turkey. People don't get a degree in something so interesting if they're not going to use it. They'll turn it into a hobby or a second job.

So just what were my relatives doing with their abnormal degrees?

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	3. Play The Game Tonight

We came up on an unusual airport, ten times the size of the small one we had departed from. Complete with stone towers and spires, it looked much more like a castle than an airport. As we landed on the roof, I silently wondered whether it was the architect or the city that had been on crack.

The pilot told us it was safe to exit the chopper. I threw off my headset, opened my door, and jumped out before Laser Brain gave me the okay. Out of curiosity, I walked to the edge of the roof and looked down three stories.

There wasn't a car in sight. Rolling greens surrounded me from all sides. There wasn't a parking lot or any visible accommodations for travelers. No other planes were landing. On the horizon, I could barely make out an Interstate. This couldn't be an airport.

"Where are we?" I asked as Laser Brain exited the helicopter.

"Welcome to Masters' Mansion," he told me, leading me through a door at the far end of the roof.

"This is my uncle's house?" I asked.

Who does he think he is? Dracula?

"This is indeed your uncle's house. He is waiting for you in his library, so, if you'll please follow me?"

I shrugged and began to follow him through a network of twisting corridors and strange green and gold décor.

Finally, after several staircases and life-sized posters reading 'Got Packers?', Laser Brain led me into my uncle Vlad's library.

Tons of towering bookshelves surrounded me, displaying a very well-rounded collection of fiction and nonfiction. I turned my attention from the books and to the man in a large arm chair by the crackling fire. The dancing flames seemed oblivious to the summertime outside. Then again, everything in the castle I had seen so far, save the Packers memorabilia, seemed oblivious to the twenty-first century outside.

He certainly looks like a Vlad. At least, he sure gives me the heebie jeebies like a Vlad should. He has the expensive suit and spooky bags under his eyes down pat, and he radiates creepy vibes that scream 'don't trust me!'

The moment I walked into the room, Vlad began sizing me up. I'm a specimen under a microscope, and I don't know why he had labeled for me observation.

"I take it you're Kaitlyn Masters," he nodded, smiling a something's-off smile. He nodded to Laser Brain, who turned around and left the room.

"And I take it you're my uncle, Vlad Masters. Nice place you've got here, but you could seriously cut back on the doom and gloom."

Not to mention the Packer's memorabilia. But I could deal with those things. I just couldn't deal with not knowing what my uncle was thinking, why he was looking at me like an opportunity.

'_This should certainly be interesting twist,'_ I heard a voice in my mind. It wasn't Carrie. It wasn't even a female, and even though I heard it like a Void, it was much louder, stronger, fuller somehow. More _alive_. And unlike most Voids, it wasn't directing its thoughts at me. It probably didn't even know I could hear it.

Vlad chuckled. "While I doubt there is much that can be done with my castle's décor, I can assure you that you may do anything you please with your room. I'm sorry to hear about your mother and sister."

"Thanks. Sorry to drop in like this. Might've helped a bit if we'd actually met once."

"Yes, yes it might make the situation better. And I'm sorry I wasn't given enough notice to prepare for your arrival."

'_It might've helped to know I was even supposed to be her guardian in case of Kamilia's death,'_ the male Void added.

Is it possible? Was that Vlad speaking inside his head? Can I hear living people's thoughts too?

"You didn't even know I was going to you, did you?" I asked him.

"No, no one bothered to inform me I was even in your mother's will."

They were indeed Vlad's thoughts. Why haven't I ever done this before?

I couldn't hear Laser Brain's thoughts. I hadn't heard Lucifer Lawyer's, any of the mourners', my sister's, my mother's, my friends'.

So why Vlad? And why now?

"Well," I said. "If it makes you feel any better, I thought I was going to some foster home. This is definitely an upgrade. What do you do, anyway?"

"Jealous of the life already, are we? I head a few corporations involved in scientific research. But, mostly, I invest."

"How does one go about founding corporations?"

'_Robbing a few banks,'_ Void Vlad unknowingly suggested.

"Wait until you're older," Vlad answered aloud as his grin broadened.

Silence. Awkward silence.

"So, what's with all the green and gold? Do you own the Packers?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Why not?"

"Because they're owned by the city of Green Bay and they won't sell them to me!" Vlad yelled, his eyes twitching.

"Ever think of just buying the city of Green Bay?"

'_Can I actually do that?_' Void Vlad wanted to know.

"No, I haven't, now that you mention it," he said. You could hear the gears turning in his mind. "What do you know? You just may prove yourself extremely valuable to have around, Kaitlyn."

"Thanks," I think.

"There is an interior designer coming tomorrow to work on your room. Just tell her what you want. Cost isn't an issue. I also daresay you are in need of a new wardrobe. I'll arrange for a car to take you to a mall after your meeting. Just charge everything you want on this," he told me, handing me a credit card with my name on it. "I'll make sure they give you the VIP treatment."

He was trying, and he wasn't doing all that bad for two days' notice. I'd certainly give him that. But I'm not completely sure he's doing all this just to be nice to his niece.

"Thanks, Uncle Vlad," I told him, taking the card. "But I'd rather drive myself."

The last thing I need is his goons following me around, assuring 'my safety'.

"Do you even know where you are?"

I shook my head.

"I certainly wouldn't want you to get lost. I think having Davis, the man who brought you up here, drive you is the safest idea. Have you ever ridden in a limo?"

Another headshake. Looks like I'm going to have to learn how to ditch Laser Brain.

"Then you're in for a treat. You're in Wisconsin, by the way, just outside of Green Bay. I'll show you to your room. Would you like a tour of the castle?"

I shook my head. "I'm sure you have better things to do. Besides, I'd rather just explore on my own."

"Feel free," he told me, leading me out the library's door and into a huge intersection of halls. We began to walk down the one with the Got Packers? banner hung above. "I usually eat at odd hours; so, whenever you feel the need, just ask for something from the kitchen. I always have someone down there. The interior designer will be here at eight tomorrow. Some press may be here tomorrow after you return from the mall. Any questions?"

"What's the press for?"

"Your mother's lawyer tipped them off about you coming here. They want the inside scoop. But if you'd prefer them not to come –"

'_But don't most teenagers desire fame?'_ Vlad's Void thought.

So this is the reason I'm a specimen. I'm his newest image-booster, and, judging from Vlad's Void, he doesn't have a clue he's coming off fake to me. He thinks I see him as the coolest uncle on the planet, and he intends to fill that role.

The least I could do for him after my technology shopping spree tomorrow is pose for a few photos and lie through my teeth. I'm not so sure what will happen to me if I don't agree to be his poster child. Something's telling me Vlad's cordiality would become even more forced, and I'd find myself with a very difficult two years in front of me.

Besides, I'm always up for a challenge. I'm ready to play Vlad's game, and I'm ready to win.

"You mean I'll be in the papers? Maybe even magazines?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why wouldn't like that? You're the greatest, Uncle Vlad!"

'_The greatest? The child will certainly prove useful in the future. I wonder how far she'll go to help her favorite uncle…' _thought Void Vlad.

Something tells me dearest Uncle Vlad didn't give up his life of crime after robbing those banks. I mentally put it on my list of things to figure out.

Vlad fell silent with a grin, leaving me to my own thoughts as we reached a smaller intersection. We continued going straight past suits of armor, Packer's posters, and various works of art.

Topping my mental 'to do' list is figuring out what kind of 'scientific research' dearest Vlad does. Would it have something to do with Spectral Research? And why can I read his mind?

Instead of driving myself crazy with questions, I devoted myself to memorizing the twisting series of passages that led to my room. A left turn at the suit of armor. A right at the Packer's poster. Another right at the huge painting of a chessboard. Finally, I found myself in front of a fancy door, carved from some kind of expensive wood I didn't recognize.

Vlad opened the door and ushered me in. He flipped the light switch.

The room was massive, almost as big as the entire upstairs of my old house. It was completely empty except for a large king sized bed. From where I stood, I could see two other doors in the room.

"The door by the bed leads to the bathroom. The other leads to a closet," Vlad explained. "I know it needs work, but I don't think you'll have any problem making it your own. I do hope you'll be happy here. Can you remember how to get back to the main intersection?"

I nodded.

"Good. You can find anything from there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business matters to attend to. If you need anything, use the intercom system," he told me, pointing to a large box imbedded into the wall. The first real sign of technology. It consisted of a touch screen, giving options where you wanted your voice directed to, along with a microphone/speaker combination.

"Just do an all call if you're not sure where I am. If I can't come, I'll send one of my staff. If I don't see you later, good night."

With that, Uncle Vlad left the room, closing the door behind him. It was a very obvious dismissal.

I quickly surveyed the empty walk in closet and marble master bath. Vlad was right. This room is in dire need of work. My hands itch for Geek Gear.

I quickly began scouting out where the computers, big screen TV, gaming consoles, and a charging station for PDAs, iPods, Lap Tops, Cell Phones, GPSs, and anything else I could find would go.

I would give the interior designer free reign, as long as he or she didn't make it look like Carrie's hideous room, plastered with pictures and posters of fashion, makeup, and hair tips, along with snapshots of her various friends and crushes.

Five minutes later, I was out my door, heading towards the library. I wanted to find out as much as I could about Spectral Research before Carrie's Void found me all the way up here.

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	4. Articles Abundant

Hundreds of papers lay before me, scattered around on a huge oak table in Uncle Vlad's empty library, the fruits of my researching labors. I've been staring at one school paper headline in particular for the past ten minutes.

"_RELATIONS MASTERS AND MASTERS SEVER RESEARCH PARTNERSHIP OVER ETHICS DISPUTE". _

"_Wednesday – Sibling research partners Vladimir Masters and Kamilia Masters have ended their two year research collaboration in the Spectral Research Facility over an ethics dispute. _

_According to their professor Thomas Welling, Masters and Masters were researching Spectral Perception when the dispute arose. Kamilia aimed to use their research to up the perception of Spectral Activity in human subjects using a controversial cocktail of natural and synthetic drugs, which her older brother, Vladimir, thought crazy, at best. He insisted their research was not mature enough to even consider human test subjects, and suggested they take a step backwards and study what makes certain animals so attuned to Spectral Activity. Kamilia refused. Vladimir attempted to destroy his sister's supply of the Spectral Perception-enhancing drugs using plastic explosives, but was foiled in the attempt by campus security. _

_After being informed of her brother's attempt to destroy years of research, Kamilia abruptly cut all ties to her brother, and plans to begin testing next week, paying fifty dollars an hour to any interested subjects. Vladimir has turned his focus to Spectral Habitats, partnering with the famed Jack Fenton and Maddie Anderson, who, according to campus rumors, are attempting to break the barrier between our world and a hypothesized 'Ghost Zone'."_

The article on the table next to it, part of a special addition dated a few days later, was even grimmer.

"_LAB TESTS GO WRONG – Friday – This morning, the county coroner confirmed rumors of two deaths on campus. Britney Jackson and Brad Underwood, both students of the Computer Sciences Department, volunteered as human subjects in Spectral Perception-enhancing experiments by Kamilia Masters._

_The deadly cocktail, which the coroner confirmed consisted of several poisons such as arsenic, cyanide, and several illegal substances, was given to the two students intravenously. An hour later, all attempts at CPR failed, Masters fled while Prof. Thomas Welling called the ambulance to no avail. The consequences MIA Masters will have to face for the deaths are unclear at this time, as Welling gave the go ahead for experimentation, regardless of her drug's questionable legality. A special edition in memory of Britney Jackson and Brad Underwood goes to the presses later today, including quotes from parents, teachers, and friends on the tragedy and their short, cruel lives." _

It didn't take a genius to figure out both articles were slanted. Uncle Vlad was portrayed as the good guy, which, I guess from what was in the 'perception-enhancing drugs', was the case. No one mentioned the students probably knew what they were getting in to, either. Sure, it's sad they had to die, but if they knew the stuff was 'controversial' they should've been smart enough to figure out more was on the line than their credit score.

I turned my attention to the next article, also from the school newspaper.

"_KAMILIA MASTERS DECLARED INNOCENT – PROF. THOMAS WELLING SENTENCED TO TEN YEARS – After producing semi-convincing evidence of Masters' ignorance as to what was actually in the experimental Spectral Perception-enhancing drug that killed two students last semester, Masters was set free yesterday, while her professor, Welling, was left to take the blame. According to testimony from Welling, the drug was made from his recipe from start to finish, and Masters was ignorant as to what it contained (arsenic, cyanide, Methamphetamine, LSD, and several neurotoxins, among other things). Speculations have arisen whether Welling was simply protecting Masters and taking the fall for the biggest mistake of her life. Considering Welling isn't allowed visitors for several months, some of us may never know the truth. Whatever the case, Masters has opted to transfer to the University of Illinois to finish her remaining years of college."_

Below this article was a small blurb by some rookie who thought she was hilarious.

"_LAB ACCIDENT LEAVES VLADIMIR MASTERS HOSPITALIZED INDEFINITELY – Keeping with the Masters' tradition, earlier this month Masters fell victim to a 'ghost portal' explosion which left his face scarred with ecto acne. Masters is also exhibiting strange symptoms of plummeting body temperature – a frosty 85.6 degrees Fahrenheit - and strange outbursts in which he screams ghosts are after him. Perhaps a Masters has finally cracked the secret to enhanced Spectral Perception. Whatever the case, Masters has opted to back out of his research with Fenton and Anderson until he is released from the hospital."_

The puzzle pieces are spread before me. Now all I have to do is put them together. My mother and uncle didn't talk because my uncle didn't want to experiment on humans, and my mother did. Both were involved in Spectral Research. My mother was possibly responsible for two deaths in college, and it is unclear whether her professor took the bullet for her.

So if Uncle Vlad was developing a 'ghost portal' with Fenton and Anderson, what happened to him after the explosion? What had caused his body temperature to be so low, and was it still like that? Did the explosion leave him with any other side effects other than ecto-acne, whatever that was?

And, the most interesting thing of all, did their ghost portal actually work? Was there really a 'Ghost Zone'? Is that where the Voids are headed? Did Vlad still dabble in Spectral Research?

'_Wouldn't you love to know?_' Carrie's Void asked, having found me more quickly than I could have thought possible.

'_How did you find me so quickly?'_

'_I've known you were here for a while. I wanted to check out the Culver's ten miles away.'_

I rolled my eyes, waving an article around in the air. '_I take it you know all about this.'_

'_Yeah. I know everything about how Uncle Vlad was holding Mom back and tried to destroy her research.'_

'_Her research killed two people.'_

'_People are killed all the time. Your stupidity got me and Mom killed.'_

'_Will you let it go? I couldn't have done anything to stop the explosion, and you know it. Give it a rest.'_

'_Don't diss Mom's research. She was paving the way in Spectral Research until she had to go underground after the trial.'_

'_She didn't stop her experiments after the trial?'_

Carrie's Void materialized sitting on top of one of the massive bookshelves. She gave me a small, evil smile.

'_True scientists never quit.'_

'_Like you would know, Miss-D-in-Bio.'_

'_Ever wonder why you can talk to me, Katie?'_

Did mom have something to do with it? It was plausible, to say the least.

'_What did she do to me?'_

Instead of saying 'wouldn't you love to know' like I thought she would, Carrie's evil grin widened. _'You see, lots of the time babies from China get here and their new parents find they have birth defects and diseases and stuff. Mom could just blame it on the doctors over there if something happened to you. You're her first success, and, even though she never told you, she knew. She just looked the other way when she caught you talking to yourself.'_

What if I would've died? Would she have even cared?

'_You're lying!'_

'_Am I? Tell you what. If I can convince you Uncle Vlad never stopped his Spectral Research, wouldn't it make sense if Mom never stopped, too?'_

'_I guess…'_

'_Then see that golden football statue on the right of the fireplace?' _She grinned.

I turned around. _'Yeah.'_

'_Pull it towards you and you'll find your proof.'_

'_Do they have drugs in the afterlife, Carrie?'_

'_Just do it and stop whining in your head about how Mom didn't care about you. God, couldn't you tell you were just a wallflower? I bet she wished she would've killed you.'_

I sent a glare her way before scooting my chair back and walking towards the golden football. I didn't know how it would prove mom was a mad scientist, but Carrie seemed pretty excited at the prospect.

The thought crossed my mind that whatever the football was going to do could be rather dangerous.

Shrugging away these thoughts, I reached up and touched the football, hesitating a moment before tipping it towards myself. To my surprise, it didn't fall off the mantle or tip over, but remained firmly attached at the bottom. A huge secret door slid open dramatically.

A long stone staircase illuminated by torches spiraled out of sight into the shadows.

This didn't confirm anything other than that Uncle Vlad or whoever had built the house was psychotic.

'_Oh, come on, chicken,' _Carrie taunted. '_You afraid of the truth?'_

As if to show how brave she was in death, she floated down off the bookshelf and down the stairs, disappearing from view. With a quick look around, I began to follow her down the winding staircase.

I counted thirty steps by the time the torches disappeared.

'_Still coming?'_ Carrie asked from the darkness up ahead.

Against my better judgment, I kept going on in the darkness, by now accustomed to the short, circling stairs.

After ten more steps in the darkness, I tried to step down again, and my foot met solid floor.

'_Keep walking straight ahead ten more steps,' _Carrie told me, the evil grin apparent in her voice.

I complied.

'_Five more.'_

'_Two more.'_

'_Stop right there.'_

"Carrie?" I asked aloud.

Nothing.

"Carrie, you're not going to leave me down here in the dark, are you?"

All of a sudden, a blinding light seared into my eyes, blinding me and penetrating deep into my skull. Instant migraine!

"Carrie," I gasped. "What did you do?"

'_I'm giving you proof, of course,' _she answered with a snicker.

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	5. The Secret Laboratory

Proof.

This is what she calls proof.

I really would've preferred a newspaper article.

Carrie's grinning over in a corner while I gape, trying to take in my surroundings.

I'm in the middle of the textbook definition of a secret lab. Strange machines spouting bursts of bright green light are littered across the room, beeping and booping. There's about ten person-sized lab tables, complete with glowing bonds swinging from the sides, ready to be used. Tanks of glowing green goo are wedged between computer after computer after computer, their screens crunching numbers furiously. Glowing green cages hold green, floating blobs hooked up to all sorts of wires. As I walk closer, I realize they're living, or something similar, creatures, and they begin screaming at me. If I listen closely enough, I can understand their pleas for freedom.

I shy away from the cages. The poor things make way too much noise when I get close. What if Uncle Vlad caught me down here? Would I end up in a cage like them? No. Uncle Vlad had stopped speaking to my mom because he believed they shouldn't experiment on humans. I'm safe for the time being.

This was all meant for ghosts. I'd met my fair share over the years. They were like Voids. Most didn't notice them, but I always did.

In the process of inching away from the cages, I bumped into a panel of switches. I whirled around to find the source of a new, high-pitched beep.

With a hydraulic swoosh, the centerpiece of the lab was unveiled. A hidden panel in the center of the largest wall opened to expose a large, circular something twice my height. More of the glowing green matter from the cages, bonds, and creatures swirled around inside the circle, giving access to who knows where.

I wanted to believe this was left over from the former owner of the mansion. But there was no dust covering any of the instruments, and if I put this much money into a lab like this, I'd certainly take it with me when I moved.

"What is this place?" I whispered to Carrie.

'_It's your Uncle's little secret ghost lab where he experiments,' _she shrugged.

'_What sort of experiments?'_

'_Oh, no. I've shown you proof. That's all the further I'm going for you. If you want to know what that rich dude is doing down here, you'll just have to ask him.'_

'_Fine. I believe you. So what did mom do to me?'_

'_She gave you those experimental drugs, of course. I can still remember you screaming on the tapes. It lasted for weeks, but she never stopped the doses until you started talking to things I couldn't see.'_

I tried to keep the shock off my face and the sobs from spilling from my lips. For the moment, I appeared composed, but I wasn't sure how long that would last.

'_How old was I?' _I asked.

'_Two, probably. Mom video taped it all, or else I probably wouldn't know about it at all.'_

'_Why should I believe you?'_

'_Can you think of any other reason why you're talking to me right now?'_

'_There isn't a reason why I should still be talking to you. You were manipulative and evil in life, and you're even worse in death. I should just ignore you and get on with my life.'_

'_You know what I meant. And if I wasn't here, you'd never find anything out.'_

'_I could always ask Uncle Vlad.' _ In a few days. When I calmed down.

'_Yes, wonderful Uncle Vlad. He's not going to tell you anything.'_

'_And you have? Leave me be. Move on, or whatever you need to do. You're not wanted here. And if you don't, I'm just going to ignore you, and you'll be even lonelier than you are now.'_

'_I'm not lonely.'_

'_You're willingly talking to your geeky little sister. Patricia would kick you out of her clique for falling so low. Your boyfriend would probably send to a doctor for psych meds. Too bad, you can't take them as a Void. You seriously need them.'_

'_How dare you! Patricia would never –'_

Carrie stopped. She knew Patricia would, as would her boyfriend.

'_I can't fight what I am. But you can at least not become an even bigger loser in death,' _I taunted.

'_If you want me to move on, fine! I'm done with talking, anyway. You're no fun.'_

'_Have fun haunting what's-his-face!'_

'_I will. Enjoy your lame life, you ugly, pathetic excuse for a human being. Maybe there'll even be someone crazy enough out there to take you on a date. Not promising it's gonna be a male, though,' _Carrie smirked.

With a bright flash of light, Carrie disappeared, smirk and all, to wherever her next life or whatever was taking her. Alone once again, I sunk to the floor, my back against one of the lab tables, sobbing, not even remotely happy my insults had finally gotten rid of her.

I was a lab experiment from the start. My mother had adopted me for her experiments, not caring what sort of consequences they'd have on me.

And from the looks of this place, if I didn't watch my step, I'd be a lab rat again soon enough.

I don't know how long I was crying before I looked up to find him standing there. I shouldn't figured out a lab like this would have alarms.

But I hadn't heard his footsteps down the hidden stone staircase. I hadn't heard his footsteps across the metal floors of the lab. I didn't hear him at all until he spoke.

I looked up, my body still shaking with sobs.

"Katie," my Uncle Vlad asked. "What on Earth are you doing down here?"

I tried to stop crying, but it wasn't happening. I knew from the look on his face, I was going to be yelled at sooner or later, subjected to a full scale interrogation.

But for now, Uncle Vlad simply looked down at me, as if unsure what to do with a sobbing teenaged girl.

Making his decision, he did the last thing I expected him to do. He lowered himself to the floor next to me, took me in his arms, and let me keep on sobbing.

Sitting on the floor with him, I could hear his thoughts. And only one thing was entirely certain.

He knew. He knew exactly why I was crying. He knew what my mom had done to me.

And, somehow, he knew about Carrie.

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	6. Saltwater on Silk

I don't know how long we sat there. It was certainly long enough for me to cry myself out completely, and realize how pathetic and dumb I must look.

I hate crying. Whenever you cry, you basically put up a huge red, loud, blubbering billboard for the world to see saying, 'HEY! I'VE GOT PROBLEMS!' Then people come up to you and ask you what's wrong, complicating your life further because you can't answer, even if you wanted to, because you know they're looking for a short, painless explanation. They don't want to get involved. They want something like "My cat died," or "MyboyfriendJohnnybrokeupwithmebecauseIwouldn'thavesexwithhim." You know, the usual, average teenage girl's response.

They sure as freaking tofurkey don't want "My mom experimented on me when I was a kid, so now I see dead people, and now I have to live with my uncle because my mom and older sister are dead, but the only reason I'm bothered by that is now my older bitchy sister has decided to follow me around posthumously, trying to make my life more of a living hell."

That's when they call the psych ward and you have to talk your way out of it, saying you were talking about a nightmare you had last night that was really, really vivid and really, really bothered you because you'd never, ever, ever want it to happen. But that makes it even worse, because you know you're not crazy, and you know you're telling the truth. And you know that no matter how pathetic and helpless it makes you feel, you probably won't be able to get through it on your own, even though the last thing you want to do is involve someone else, because then you just look lame – really, really lame.

And I haven't even gotten started on wondering why the freaking tofurkey I can read my uncle's mind. Right now, Uncle Vlad really doesn't know what to think. He's not used to comforting hysterical teenage girls. I had to give him snaps though. For a beginner, he was doing pretty darned good in my book.

First of all, he wasn't asking questions. Granted, that was because I think he knows most of the answers, but I still appreciate it. He wasn't yelling at me for soaking his Italian suit – does saltwater ruin silk? And even better yet, he wasn't repeating 'it's going to be okay,' because that's basically the worst thing you can say to a girl when she feels like a total schmooze.

When my breathing finally regulated and my tears all dried up, I lifted my head from his lapels, took a deep breath, and asked, "How did you know?"

'_Know what? That you were down here? That you could hear the thoughts of souls?'_

"Well, basically all of that. First of all, how did you know I was down here?"

It was only after I finished my sentence when I realized he had thought his response.

Unlike what I expected, Uncle Vlad didn't freak out at all. He simply gave a small smile and continued on. "This is my lab. I have several measures installed to inform me of intruders," he shrugged.

"Makes sense, I guess."

"I knew you could hear the thoughts of souls because your mother contacted me years ago to gloat about her 'great accomplishment'. I was seriously considering contacting Child Services until I realized I had no plausible reason why you shouldn't be able to live with your mother. You had no bruises, no scars, no outward damage of any kind, and that's usually what their inspectors are looking for."

"How do you think my mom knew I could hear their thoughts?"

"I think your first words were to someone that wasn't even there, at least that your mother couldn't see. Apparently, you were speaking about a fire that had killed a large number of people in your hometown the week before."

"I take it you know about Carrie then."

"I did know a rather malicious soul was at work, purposefully trying to bother you in any way possible. You couldn't have found this place by yourself in one night, and I suspect it thought I would be furious to find you down here."

"You're not?"

"I'm your family, Katie, or at least I'd like to be. I don't keep secrets from my family."

"I think that'd be kinda hard anyway. What with, you know –"

"How you can read my mind?"

"Something like that."

"Now before you rush into a series of questions on that, I'd like to know more about this Carrie. Wasn't Carrie the name of your older sister?"

"Yeah. She never liked me much."

"Death magnifies emotions by a hundredfold, at the very least. If she becomes a ghost, I'm afraid you might need protection. She won't be limited to damaging you psychologically – she'll be able to injure you physically. What did you tell her to make her leave?"

"I just told her to leave me alone," I shrugged. "How long will she be a Void?"

"There's no telling. She could be a ghost already, for all I know."

I gulped. "What exactly can ghosts…do? The ones I've seen have all been friendly."

"When they're angry enough, they can attack with ectoplasmic rays, which, while not usually deadly to humans, can cause considerable damage. They can turn you intangible and splice you in the middle of the wall. They could grab you, fly up to high altitudes, and drop you. Unfortunately, humans are extremely fragile."

I sucked in a breath, though secretly appreciating he wasn't sugar-coating anything. I had wanted to know. I had to.

I couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Carrie's gonna love that."

"I was afraid of that."

"But aren't I putting you in danger if she'll be dropping by? Did you ever study how to, well, you know, fight ghosts?"

"While my former colleagues Maddie and Jack devote themselves more to battle than I, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Trust me, Carrie will not be able to harm you," he gave a small chuckle.

"How do you know?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stood. A second later, two bright rings appeared around his waist, and I went into a mental lock.

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	7. Think With Care

**A/N: Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. I'll be posing a new one Tuesday or Wednesday, and that'll be all until after my Spring Break.**

**000000000000000000**

Life has this odd, annoying little habit.

Just when you think you've figured it all out, something new comes along and turns yours completely upside down.

"Katie? Are you still with me?" Uncle Vlad asked me.

"I think so."

"I'm sorry, Katie. You need to know this for your own protection. You must be vigilant from now on."

"Right."

He had changed back to his human form twenty minutes ago, before starting his long explanation. At least he's not as, I don't know, spooky this way. It's not like I'm afraid of him, but, please, the man has vampire fangs.

"Can you please reiterate what I was just saying? I know this is a great deal of information, but before you leave the mansion later today, you must know."

"I can hear the thoughts of Voids, which are really souls, and ghosts, too thanks to some chemicals my mom gave me when I was a baby. I can read your mind because you're half ghost. You've been half ghost ever since college when Jack Fenton screwed up and almost got you killed. You'll be able to protect me from Carrie, no problem, but I'll have to be smart, too, when you're not there. But can't you just, I don't know, destroy Carrie or something?"

"Yes. But, unfortunately, Carrie isn't the only ghost you're going to have to worry about. There are others, ones who's only purpose in their afterlife is to kill humans, especially humans like you."

I gulped unconsciously.

"How many?"

"Well, generally, all of them. Most of them, however, are relatively harmless and only possess the ability to cause property damage and a need for therapy. However, there's one in particular that when you see, you must run the other way no matter what."

'_You must keep your mind blank, Vlad, or else this will never work,'_ Uncle Vlad's thoughts floated across the room.

Or what will never work?

I kept my face blank as Uncle Vlad brought up a picture on one of the many screens of the room. It showed a ghost in midair. Like Uncle Vlad, the ghost had silvery white hair.

That's where the similarities ended.

This ghost looked like a kid about my age. He was clothed in a black jumpsuit with silvery white bands around his wrists, ankles, and waist. A weird 'D' with tails to make it look like it was going fast adorned his chest. He was pretty buff, but there was something in his glowing green eyes, a kind of pain that made him seem vulnerable, and years older than he probably really was.

Wait, do ghosts age? Or do they stay the same age as when they died?

"This is Danny Phantom, ghost terrorist of Amity Park."

"How old his he?"

"Sixteen, approximately. He died when he was fourteen from an explosion Jack Fenton caused testing new ghost hunting equipment. Now he's angry, and out to avenge his own untimely death. Anyone who lives in Amity Park is a target, though he's been known to come after me."

"Why you?" I asked, shocked.

'_Generally because I kidnap his friends, plan his ultimate demise, or try to get him to join me,' _though Vlad.

I fought the urge to inch away, fighting to keep my face neutral. He obviously thought I couldn't hear him. Maybe he thought he could block his mind from me.

Maybe I really should be afraid of him.

"Daniel is jealous that I lived through my accident and he did not. It seems reasonable to him to hold a grudge against me. If he were to find out about you, I'm not sure what he'd do."

He had called him Daniel instead of Phantom. There was familiarity in the way he had said it. These two were no strangers.

"I'll be careful, Uncle Vlad," I told him.

Though I'm not sure who I'm going to have to be more careful of.

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	8. Laser Brain, Called Dave

So, my first night at Uncle Vlad's mansion didn't exactly go as well as it could've

So, my first night at Vlad's mansion didn't exactly go as well as it could've.

After he had explained his plans for my safety, which of course included Laser Brain being with me every waking moment when I'm not inside the mansion, I came up to my room and sat on my bed, staring at random points at the wall for two hours until the sun came up. Yeah, yeah I know it's a sign of insanity and what not, but, ask me, do I really care?

And I'll tell you nope. Not at all.

After all, I knew that after all the information Vlad had pumped into me the night before, I'd never get to sleep anyway. So really, I was avoiding dumb and fruitless behavior in lieu of being equally unproductive, but feeling smarter about my unproductiveness because it didn't involve futile actions.

Yeah. I yammer when I don't have enough sleep. Watch for random words like zebra sneaking into the prose, and misuse of big, minuscule words.

Yep. Just like that.

Anywho, my zombie self took the sun as my cue to stop staring, and, taking as much time as I possibly could, I got ready for the day. I changed into the only other outfit I owned, the one I was wearing when taking kids home the other night. Jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing special.

By the time I had found the kitchen, eaten breakfast, and drank a lot of nasty expensive coffee, I decided it was about time for the interior designer to arrive.

Still in a daze regardless of the toxic levels of chemicals in my body, I walked into my echoing bedroom to find a tall, peppy blonde brandishing color swatches.

Ah. I get it. My sleep deprived brain wants to make me suffer, and thus has sent me Barbie to endure.

"Oh! You're here! My name is Suzy! I'm your interior decorator!" She gushes.

Okay. So it's Bimbo Barbie. Should've known.

It wouldn't surprise me if she was a ghost, too. No human should be this awake this early in the morning. But, judging from the bottle of high powered energy drink in her hand, not-so-cleverly disguised with a Starbucks sticker plastered over part of the bottle, she doesn't like being up this early, either.

"I'm Katie," I mumble. "If you give me some of that, you can do whatever the hell you want with my room. My uncle will pay for it."

I decided not to add 'lying, deceitful uncle' to the mix. I just want that drink.

Bimbo Barbie drops the façade. "Anything?" she asks, her voice going from peppy to business-like.

So she's the deluxe Poser Bimbo Barbie. The perfect role model for today's girls!

"Make it look good. That's all I ask," I answer.

"That won't be a problem! Would you like coordinating furniture?" she prompts.

"Whatever you think will look good."

"Then we certainly have a deal," she tells me. She walks over to her huge purse, digs through it, and unearths another bottle of the energy drink.

"Thanks," I tell her, chugging the stuff down.

Now I'm awake. Too bad Catty Carrie isn't around. I feel ready to take her on.

Letting Poser Bimbo Barbie have free reign of my room, I head to the library to see if there was anything interesting on the shelves. An hour of wondering who the hell could make ghosts this boring later, Laser Brain shows up in the library.

"I'm here to take you to the mall."

No. Way.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm serious, Miss Masters. Your uncle is a very busy man, and doesn't have time for such…activities. Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the car."

"I could find the mall on my own."

"I guarantee you couldn't. Besides, it's my job to make sure you get the VIP treatment."

"I don't need any special treatment. It's a mall, for God's sake!"

"You need special treatment if the mall wants to stay in business. Besides, you lost your credit card."

"No I didn't, I left it in my room when –"

Laser Brain waves it around triumphantly. Apparently, not only is he a bodyguard, but he never grew up, either.

"You're not going to give it back, are you?"

"No."

"You're good at this," I mutter.

Five minutes later, we're on our way in some kind a big, black SUV. Laser Brain drives, and I'm in the passenger seat, refusing to ride in the back.

"So are you my body guard or something?" I ask him.

"Or something," he answers.

"I don't need babysitting, you know."

He sighs, actually showing some human emotion. "I know you don't need babysitting, Miss Masters. You need protection."

"So you know about all the ghost stuff? And stop calling me Miss Masters. It's Katie. Ka-tie. And what am I supposed to call you? Vlad said you're basically gonna be chained to me whenever I step out of the mansion from now on, and I can't keep on calling you 'Big, Scary Bodyguard Guy'."

Laser Brain turns to look at me. "Do you really call me Big, Scary Bodyguard Guy?"

"Nah. I call you Laser Brain."

"That's nice. And I suppose you call me that because you can't hear my thoughts, right?"

"What? You don't think much!"

He flashes his eyes glowing green for a second, and fixes his eyes back on the road, giving something close to a grin. "I think a lot, actually. I was one of your mother's test subjects back in college. I don't think we can hear each other's thoughts. You can call me Dave."

"Okay, Dave. I thought she didn't have any successful trials until me."

"I wasn't able to hear thoughts until I signed up with Vlad as a bodyguard as a way to make ends meet. I was about to go onto something better when he dumped me in that damned ghost portal. After that, I guess something went just right, and I was able to hear his thoughts. Let me tell you, finding out what kind of man he is wasn't a surprise. If I leave him now, he'll have me on a table at GIW Headquarters before you can say 'going ghost'."

"What's GIW?"

"Government installation – The Guys in White. They fight ghosts, or try to, anyway."

"So… they're like the MIB for ghosts?"

"Only dorkier and utterly useless. Black's cool. White gets dirty."

"Got it. So does Vlad know you can, well, you know -?"

"I'm not about to tell him. And I recommend not mentioning how many of his thoughts you can hear."

"Why? You think he'll send me to the GIW?"

"Something tells me he'd have much bigger plans for you."

"He already has plans for me?"

Dave grins. "I'm gonna let you figure that out for yourself. Besides, we're here, and we'd hate to have people overhearing our conversation."

A huge, glass filled hell looms in front of me. Dave parks in a handicap spot and clips one of those card things to the rearview mirror. All the other spots in the lot are taken.

"There's some kind of college seminar today," Dave explains as I grudgingly get out of the car and follow him in. Loud, pulsing music drifts out of the Abercrumbie and Fish store to my right, making me want to barf. He looks over at my disgusted expression. "You're a teenaged girl. How bad can a mall be?"

"You don't even want to know."

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	9. The Wonders of a Mall

The panic hit me as I pulled myself unwillingly through the glass doors

**AN: I apologize a million times over for the lack of updates. I'm in a hellish musical that's eating up all my time like Audrey II. It's over next week, and then updates should be regular again.**

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The familiar panic hit me as I pulled myself unwillingly through the glass doors. People, seemingly millions of people, swarmed around the food court in which I now find myself. The Tubes, McRonalds, Winnies, Cultivators, and random Chinese and Mexican food booths fan out like colorful death traps in front of me.

Laughing people sit at the tables, sipping their This Can't Be Healthy treats with shopping bags littered at their feet, their splurges forgotten for the moment.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Dave seems to know exactly where to go, probably because of the mall map in his hand, and begins pushing me through the mass of tables and to the other side of the food court.

Holy Mustard Seed.

I'm now at a railing, looking three floors down to the bottom of the underground mall. Yeah, you heard me, an underground mall. Like a normal mall isn't bad enough in the first place.

Below, I can see hundreds of booths set up in a makeshift convention, probably having to do with the college seminar Dave mentioned. I'd much rather be there than…here.

Granted, I only have like two outfits, but I'm not seeing a Floormart anywhere around here. All I see are Carrie stores. Not a good thing at all.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The more people around you, the safer you are, Katie.

But the more people around you, the more chance it will happen again.

Nothing's gonna happen with Dave around. He's probably a black belt if Vladdie hired him.

God, I hate interior monologues.

Dave sensed my floundering. "Your uncle gave me a list of stores that were eager to have you," he said, waving around a rather long piece of paper with names on both sides. He's having way too much fun, and I'm beginning to wonder if he enjoys torturing people.

Granted, he's getting paid for this. Probably even well paid.

"You wouldn't."

"You need clothes. I'm supposed to help. You could at least play the part for a little while."

"Great. Just great," I mutter as he leads me into the first store on the list – a name I can't pronounce.

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So, welcome to hell.

Dave's pulled me into five stores already, and this is exactly how each excruciating experience goes.

"Hello!" says a botox beauty who probably kills babies in her spare time, not to mention pollutes the ozone layer with her can-a-day of Aquanet. "Welcome to INSERT EXPENSIVE CARRIE STORE NAME HERE. Do you need help finding anything?"

To which Dave replies, "Yeah. This is the Masters girl."

He continues with something about what we need, but is eventually cut off by the saleslady saying something along the lines of, "You don't say! Well, we have just the thing for you, young lady. What's your name?"

To which I mutter, "Katie."

Then she says, "Katie. Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl."

To which I roll my eyes and try not to gag.

Then the saleslady will mention the sales going on, and by 'sale' they mean two for like a million dollars. What a cotton-picking deal!

After telling me about the sales, the saleslady promptly locks me in a dressing room and begins to bring me all sorts of clothes in my size. It's all super expensive. She brings me formal wear, casual wear, date wear, eating wear, sleep wear, barf wear, shoes, jewelry, and hair accessories. Stuff that matches my eyes. Stuff that flatters my figure. Stuff that makes me look amazing, especially that royal blue polo with modest jean skirt and leggings.

But still stuff I'd never ever buy for myself and would never ever wear if it wasn't for the whole 'Vlad' situation.

If I veto too many of the outfits that they obviously already had picked out and waiting for special richie rich customers, they guilt me into buying them or just put them in the sack anyway.

By the time we walk out of the fifth store, Dave and I both laden with bags, I'm exhausted and never want to go shopping again. My old clothes are gone, and I'm dressed in expensive, faded jeans and one of my only new shirts (a cinched polo in turquoise) not advertising the Carrie store where I got it.

"Are we almost done yet?" I ask, sitting down on a bench.

"We haven't even made a dent in the list yet," Dave answers, sitting down next to me with a sigh.

"What time is it?" Nine pm?

"Noon."

"No freaking way!"

"Yes freaking way. It's probably so early because they basically just make you buy the clothes."

"Do we have Vlad to blame for that?"

"Probably. How about some lunch? We should put these bags in the car, anyway."

After depositing our bags in the car, we decide on Chinese for lunch and begin to eat in exhausted silence.

"Hey, Dave?" I ask after halfway through with my noodles.

"Mmhmm?" He utters through a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken.

"You're tired, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"And I'm tired, right?"

He swallows. "Obviously."

"How about we just skip the rest of the stores then? I have plenty of clothes."

"No can do. As much as I hate to say it, we have five more major places according to the list to go before we can even think of calling it a day. Then we'll have to come back tomorrow."

"The list is divided into days?"

"Days one through five."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious. You're a girl. Why do you hate malls so much?"

I take another slurp of noodles before deciding to answer. "I was snatched in a mall when I was four."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Who knows what the guy would've done to me if the cops hadn't found me."

"How long did that take?"

"A day. Long enough for a Void to show up and try to help. The cops back then were trying out a psychic, and I guess she heard the Void telling her where I was. Whenever I come into malls now, it's not fun. Old feelings resurface and crap, quoth my psychologist," I conclude, polishing off my noodles. "Well, that and I'm a cheap skate. I don't like buying any article of clothing over thirty dollars. The thirty dollar and over range is reserved for technology."

"You're a very, very strange girl," Dave answers undiplomatically as we dump our garbage.

"A very, very strange girl who doesn't have to go to another store?"

"Not a chance."

"Not another one!"

"I think you'll like this one."

"Maybe pigs will fly," I mutter.

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	10. Trouble in the Land of Technology

Five minutes later, I find myself in heaven

Five minutes later, choirs of angels dance around my head singing harmonious 'hallelujahs'. I'm in a Better Buy and there's no better place on Earth to be.

Other than, well, not in a mall.

Dave gives a small grin before motioning for me to go ahead. "Have fun," he says.

"I will," I breathe, attacking the computer section with vigor. Let's see…unlimited credit card, nearly unlimited time.

Two hours later, my cart is crammed full with a iFruit Water, Dellio's Inspiring 9400, 160 gig iFruit Classic, PlaySphere, GameStation 3, an Us, three different games per console plus three editions of Doomed, and tons of accessories for everything.

I might as well buy all this and take it out to the car before moving on to the TV's, CDs, DVDs, and miscellaneous cables and Internet accessories. There's only so much Dave and I can carry.

Speaking of Dave, where is he? Last time I saw him, he was floating around by the big screen plasmas. Now he's nowhere in sight. There's a bench back by the Nerd Squad counter in plain sight of most of the store. I could wait there until I see Dave.

I begin slowly pushing my cart towards the bench, absent-mindedly listening to the conversations around me.

"I want one!" a little boy about seven screams, holding up a Whiteberry.

"Robbie, that's a grownup phone. It's not a toy," his father tells him.

"But Toby has one!"

"Toby also has a trust fund!"

I continue past the cell phones and into the MP3 player section.

"Which is better, Zone or iFruit?" a middle-aged woman asks two salesmen.

"Zone," one declares.

"iFruit," insists the other.

"Zone!"

"iFruit!"

"Zone!"

"iFruit!"

I push past these two and into the video gaming section.

"I'm serious, guys. It only goes off when they're around, and everything here seems normal," a boy standing in front of the Doomed display mutters to his two friends, a guy and a girl.

"Dude, all we have to worry about right now is Jazz murdering us for skipping out on the seminar!" the other boy, entering something into a PDA, says nervously.

"Tucker has a point," the girl admits. "Do you think it's hiding or something? Usually it's wrecking havoc by now and declaring its name and absolute powerfulness."

"I guess. Unless it's someone trying to follow me."

Enter people playing way too much Doomed. I push on into the CD area, only to be stopped by a sneering voice.

"Why if it isn't the geek being geeky," Carrie's voice tells me.

"Where are you?"

"Right here of course," she says snottily.

A woman examining a Coldplay turns around.

Holy. I don't even know. Holy something. I'm too something to think right now.

It's Carrie.

Her long blonde hair floats and blows on a wind that isn't there. Her smooth, tanned skin is unblemished. All the burns and ugly scars are gone. She's dressed in new clothes, or at least, I think they're new. She has so many, it's kinda hard to tell. Her make up is flawless.

She's Carrie. The astoundingly gorgeous Carrie is here, as though nothing ever happened.

She picks up the Coldplay album. _With her hands_. Voids can't touch stuff or make it move without their minds.

What the hello kitty is going on here?

"Can I help you girls any which way?" a salesman in the uniform blue polo asks.

"Actually, yes, thanks. Do you have his new album in stock?" Carrie asks, holding up the CD.

"Let me check. I'll be right back," he says, rushing away to a cataloging computer.

"Carrie…he just, he just saw you! And talked to you! Are you, are you alive? All your burns are gone and everything!"

'_Duh. Do you think I'd want to look like that? This is much better_,' she thinks.

"Are you alive?"

"God, Katie," she says aloud. "You're supposed to be the smart one. No, I'm not alive. I'm much better than that."

She raises her hand in a classic 'talk to the hand' gesture. I go flying.

I feel something break as I fly through five rows of massive CD displays. White hot stabs of pain attack my body.

I stop. The attacking pain doesn't. Brittney Spears albums have buried me alive. Not a very suitable death, if you ask me. It hurts to breathe. A lot.

My breath wheezes in and out. "Eeeeeeeeeee, oooooooooo." Every breath brings a new pain.

"I could totally get used to this!" Carrie says gleefully. I can see her through a small gap in CDs. "It's almost as good as a Club Morocco sale!"

"Eeeeeeeeee, oooooooooo," is my response.

"Something wrong, Katie? Enjoying being alive and spending our uncle's money? It isn't even fair!" she screams.

The shelves I'm lying on break. I fall to the floor.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I scream. Black dots dance in front of my eyes. The small gap of light disappears as more CDs bury me. I'm pinned. I can't move.

"It should've been me!" Carrie's voice screeches as I feel more CDs tower on top of me. "You don't even appreciate good clothes! All you wanted to do the whole morning is come in here! The only good thing they sell here are CDs and DVDs – maybe iFruits, but seriously! This place reeks of geek. You don't care that you get unlimited spending! You don't care that you get a new chance! You don't care that you're getting everything I ever wanted. No, everything I ever deserved! You don't care that you're freaking alive!"

I think a plasma screen TV just fell on top of me. Ouch.

And this new one, that was definitely a washing machine.

Great. Ouch. They'll say, remember that girl who was killed by the washing machine and Brittney Spears albums? What a loser!

"Hey?" Carrie screams. "What are you doing? Who are you?"

A pretty big chunk of weight disappears. I can breathe a bit easier. A flash of blue light blinds me before I'm left in darkness again, straining my ears to try to figure out what's happening.

"I think it's time you cleaned up your act!" a new male voice shouts.

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	11. The Beauty of Incoherence

"Hey! Ow!" I hear Carrie scream. I'm still buried in the darkness, and I definitely can't see. But I think the plasma screen TV just came off me. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Man, if I couldn't breathe, I'd swear I'd be shaming her until the store closes, and then probably some after that. I can think of millions of things I want to say to her right now, and none of them are G or PG rated.

"I'm Danny Phantom. Nice to beat you."

Danny Phantom?

The Daniel Uncle Vlad kept talking about, the one that died in his parents' explosion? The ghost terrorist of Amity Park?

Is he saving me?

Figures.

"Get away from me, you, you, you freak!" Carrie screeches.

"Hey, no name calling here." An explosion resonates through the CD's. It sounds exactly like the sound that blasted me into this mess in the first place. "Especially since I'm not the one burying innocent people in a pile of," explosion. "Britney Spears albums. That's seriously twisted, you know that? And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop whining about all this Paulina junk. Seriously. You're dead. You don't need clothes or money or some, what is it? Right. Rich uncle. And it doesn't matter if you deserve it or not. It's all over. You're supposed to be in the ghost zone."

"I hate it there! It's all green and ghostly. They don't even have an Abercrumbie for God's sake!" Carrie whines.

"Hey, get used to it, or finish your unfinished business."

"This is my unfinished business!"

Clang. Ouch. The washing machine is back.

"Well, then, get used to it. You're not going to kill anyone on my watch. Tucker, thermos!" a pause. "Thanks!"

I don't even know how to describe the noise that comes next. It was kinda like a miniature jet turbine starting up, accompanied by a big whooshing sound and, of course, Carrie's screaming.

Maybe I imagined it, but I swear a flash of light reached me beneath the CD's, washing machine, and who knows what else.

"Well, that was easy," Danny Phantom says, satisfied. "Can someone call an ambulance?"

A second later, everything around me turns transparent and falls away. Strong arms pick me up and set me on the cleared floor.

A face appears, partially shielded by white hair, just like Uncle Vlad's. From what I can see, the body connected to the face is wearing some kind of black and white jump suit.

'_She looks pretty shocked. Who was that ghost, anyway, and why was she trying to kill her?'_

"You're, you're Danny Phantom!" I manage to get out. It hurts.

"Nice to meet you -?"

"Katie," I gasp.

"Well, Katie, I think some paramedics will be here in a few minutes. Just rest until then, okay?"

I try to nod my head. Nothing happens.

It's only then that I realize that two of the Doomed obsessed trio is standing behind Danny Phantom. The black boy with the PDA saunters up closer.

"Maybe now would be a great time to introduce myself. My name is Tucker Foley. TF. That stands for too fine."

I laugh. I think it might be from the pain as much as anything else.

Whoops. Right. The pain. Trying not to think about it.

"Tucker!" Danny Phantom and the other Doomed obsessee, a girl, say, exasperated.

'_It's pretty low introducing himself to someone who probably needs morphine,'_ Danny Phantom's mind remarks. Like Uncle Vlad's, it's fuller, more alive than a regular Void, but it still sounds a lot different from Carrie's, which has more echo in it.

Weird.

What do these two have in common?

Whoa boy. I feel it coming on again. The craziness. I think I must've broken my back, or at least a few ribs.

Something snaps.

"I don't need morphine," I giggle. "Where's Dave, anyway?"

"Who's Dave? Your boyfriend?" Danny Phantom asks me before turning to the other boy, Tucker. "Tuck, do you know anything about people going crazy like this _before_ they get drugged up?"

Faintly, I hear people yelling, "Clear the area! We're paramedics, clear the area!"

"Dude, I'm not premed. I think it's just my charm and wit –"

"Dave is my bodyguard, I guess you could call him," I gasp. I'm back. For a bit. "He disappeared before Carrie showed up. And, Tucker, you haven't said enough to charm me with your wit yet, though you do have a pretty nice Challenger 4.5 there."

I'm jealous of that PDA. So jealous.

Whoa. Here we go again.

In my new fit of giggles, I can barely hear Danny Phantom ask me, "You have a bodyguard? Some job he did."

I just keep on giggling.

"Move aside!" the paramedics yell. "What happened here?"

"A ghost threw her one hundred feet into a shelf, buried her in a pile of CD's, threw two washing machines, a wide screen TV, and a refrigerator on top her, and I'm not sure what else," Danny Phantom says.

Two washing machines?

That's funny.

"Hehehehehehehehehe!"

An unfamiliar face looms over me, shining a flashlight in my eyes. Another starts checking for broken bones.

"Ow!" I scream.

"She's going in and out of coherence," the girl adds.

"Yeah. What she said," Danny Phantom agrees.

"What's your name?" the one poking and prodding me asks.

"Katie."

"We need a last name."

"Katie Masters."

"Oh my gosh! Are you Vlad Masters' daughter?" the man with the annoying flashlight asks.

Vlad? My Dad? That's funny, too.

"Hehehehehehe! Oh God, no. He's my uncle."

"Dude, I think you just saved Vlad's niece," I hear Tucker say flatly.

"Dude, I think you were just trying to hit on Vlad's niece," Danny Phantom retorts.

Two pairs footsteps rush off. Danny Phantom flies away.

'_God, I'm such an idiot! Is he around here somewhere, watching me and, waiting to attack? Is this a set up? Who knows what she's up to? Hell, who knows what he's up to? I have to get back to the seminar. Jazz is gonna kill me,' _I hear Danny Phantom's mind worry in frustration.

Faintly, I can hear them start to talk in mute tones as they head off.

"Are you allergic to any medication, Katie?" the poking and prodding man asks me as he loads me onto a stretcher.

"Hehehehehehe! Ow! No."

"Good, because I think you're gonna need it."

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	12. Collard Greens and Pickled Onions

Something hurts. Something really hurts.

Granted, it's not nearly as bad as last time.

What happened last time?

Oh. Right. The special ghost edition Carrie happened.

How long ago was that? Have I been asleep?

I try to sit up. Nothing happens. I can't move. In fact, something is holding me down, straps, perhaps, or maybe fatigue. Whatever the case, it all brings about the same thing. I'm trapped like a dog on a leash.

An involuntary groan escapes my lips. Am I still buried in a big ole pile of appliances? No. Danny Phantom changed that. He saved me. His mind voice sounded like Vlad's – all there. Bam. In your face. That's where the similarity ended.

Instead of the desire to control, the desire to deceive, to win, to lie and get away with it, all Danny Phantom's mind wanted was to help me, a complete stranger who could be the worst person in the world. That and to be safe. From dearest Uncle Vlad, I guess.

After all, Danny Phantom isn't some malevolent mindless ghost like Vlad said. Judging from his mind voice, he's half ghost, just like Vlad. Vlad isn't the type of person to like competition, and anyone who could mouth off to Carrie like that is totally Vlad competition in my book.

Man, good thing I was too out of it to realize it at the time, or else those paramedics would've never gotten me down. There're a million things I want to ask Danny Phantom.

Why did he save me? He's probably scared of me now after hearing that I'm related to Vlad. Hell, I'm officially scared of everyone even associated with him. Is everything he ever told me a lie, other than the stuff about Mom? I mean, seriously, that's a convenient truth. What does he want with me, anyway, other than to be his next publicity stunt? Would Danny Phantom know?

Who is Danny Phantom in real life, anyway? Vlad said his parents were ghost hunters. Maybe there will be stuff in the library or on the net.

The net. I don't know how much longer I can live without a tablet PC.

Did someone pick up and buy my stuff for me? Like Dave, maybe? Where the hell was he, anyway? I could've died. I don't know, isn't he supposed to be this little thing called a freaking bodyguard?

Yeah, and these bonds, yeah, they're totally not cool. I guess I might as well figure out where I am.

My eyes snap open. Cheap, insulated panels, that universal ugly speckled gray and white surface, stare at me. A thin cotton sheet covers me, hardly keeping out the chill. Small electronic beeps ring throughout the room. A brace keeps my neck completely still. My clothes are gone, replaced by one of those idiotic hospital gowns. A lime green cast encases my right leg below the knee. The smell of Lysol brings bile up into my burning throat. There's a tube running down it, and another drip running into my arm. Heartbeat pad things cover my chest, and there're electrodes stuck to my forehead, measuring brain activity. I can see the readings on a screen to my right.

Hospitals. If there's one thing on this planet that I absolutely hate more than Carrie right now, it's hospitals.

They totally, completely, utterly bite. Womp. Suck. Whatever.

And they totally get ticked off if you ask them if they have free wi-fi all the time.

I glance to my left, wondering if I have a roommate.

"So, you finally decided to wake up," Dave tells me with a smile, throwing USA Yesterday onto the other hospital bed in the room, where, judging from the amount of other newspapers, magazines, empty cups of coffee, and a small travel bag, he's taken up residence.

"Where am I?" I ask him, trying to move again.

White hot agony. "EEE!" I'm not doing that again. This whole moving thing sucks.

"Yeah, you're supposed to stay completely still for a few more days. You're in a hospital with some holy name in Green Bay. They've kept you in a medically induced coma on your uncle's instructions for the past few days so you can heal a bit before he airlifts you home."

"What's so wrong with me?" I ask as the pain dies down.

"You broke two ribs, a leg, and your neck."

"Collard greens and pickled onions, I didn't break anything! Carrie broke my neck, ribs, and leg!"

"You're also on high dosages of morphine, which sorta explains the collard greens and pickled onions."

"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly coherent, and that hurt way too much for me to have morphine stuck into me!"

"Must be out," Dave shrugs, scanning the room for a call button.

"Where's Uncle Vlad, anyway? Shouldn't he be here?"

"Believe it or not, he didn't leave your side until this morning. He had an important business meeting he had to attend. He'll be back around five, that's in about two hours."

"That's surprising. Were there news crews around?"

"Five."

"Not so surprising. Well, now that that's out of the way, where were you when Danny Phantom was doing the whole Carrie exorcism thing? You disappeared into thin air the minute I started picking stuff out to buy."

"I got all your stuff, by the way. Want the tablet PC?"

"Yes! Wait, no! You're changing the subject!"

Dave sighs. He expected me to be a lot more drugged up, a lot more dumb, or both. "Danny didn't exorcise Carrie. He couldn't do that without exorcising himself, and, generally, exorcisms work a hell of a lot better on demons around here than ghosts. He just put her in a Fenton Thermos."

"Are you sure you're not on morphine?"

"Very."

"You didn't answer my question. You just gave me some technical mumbo jumbo."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Excuse me?"

"I never disappeared and, Katie, listen to me, because this is mega important, you never, ever met Danny Phantom, the ghost terrorist of Amity Park. I eventually got Carrie to fly away, but she's still out there somewhere. Once I got her away, I called the paramedics. We were the only ones left in the store."

Wait a second. Did he just -?

"You can't be serious!"

"Katie, Vlad isn't stupid, and he knows you're not stupid. He just thinks you're misinformed. If he finds out Danny saved you, trust me, he'll know you know he's been lying to you. And, honestly, I'm not sure what he'd do with you then. The longer you can play dumb and stay on Vlad's good side, the better. And, besides, I already told him I saved you."

"And it's your word against mine," I mock.

"Something like that."

"Wait! Danny? You called him by his first name! You know him!"

"Of course I know him. Vlad has only had me kidnap him, I don't know, twice!"

Who's the teenager here again?

"And you helped him escape, I don't know, twice?"

"And Vlad isn't going to find out. Ever."

"Like I'd tell him. I wasn't criticizing. I think it's pretty great that you'd risk your job and everything to help him."

"Katie, my job is never at risk. It's always my life. Losing my life generally goes with losing my job."

"Right. Wait a second, did you purposefully disappear?"

Dave glances guiltily at the monitors, the tubes, my brace, and me in general and then looks away.

Golly, I probably look a mess.

"Telling wouldn't be enough. Danny has to be shown, if you get my drift. I'm afraid Vlad might be planning to use your powers against him somehow, and you had to know what a great kid he is. I'm sorry you got hurt, but, trust me, once Vlad gets you airlifted back to his mansion, he'll give you some sort of mega cure and you'll be on your neck, ribs, and leg in no time."

"Ha ha," I mutter sarcastically. "So you saw him in the store and high tailed it out of there and hoped there'd be a ghost around?"

"No, actually. Carrie had been following us all day, but wouldn't approach you with me around. I'm surprised you couldn't hear her thoughts. It's better, though, I have to admit. She has a pretty graphic mind. When I saw Danny, I knew the timing couldn't be better, and slipped out. Carrie attacked you, Danny saved you, you didn't die, and everyone is happy but Vlad."

"I beg to differ."

"And when he gets here, you'll tell him what I told you. You didn't meet Danny Phantom. Carrie attacked you, I saved you, the end."

Dave just got booted out of the running for the adult of the month award. Taking credit for something someone my age did? I don't know. It sounds kinda Vladish, if you ask me. I guess I can see his motives – I don't want Vlad knowing I think he's living up to his name. That wouldn't be good.

But seriously.

_He spent the time looking it up. She's still here, in this room, until Wednesday. I can see him looking it up, but, seriously, Tucker? Actually building up the nerve in only four days to come to a hospital? To visit Vlad's niece? Isn't this suicide?_

Danny's mind voice flits into the room from the hallway.

_Is he crazy? Or does he just want to talk to a female techno geek this badly? I swear if Vlad has anything to do with this, and, duh, it's Vlad, I'm totally out of here. Tucker can stay, but Sam and I are so gone._

"Dave, I think I have some visitors," I comment evenly.

"I hear him, too. Hey, Danny, you realize you're giving Tucker away, right?" Dave calls.

_Oh, shit! I totally forgot! Don't tell me she can do it, too!_ The still disembodied voice panics.

"Sorry to be the bearer to bad news, but I can" I call as the Doomed obsessed trio walks awkwardly into the room, Tucker in the lead.

Oh, collard greens and pickled onions. Tucker can't see me like this!

000000000000 


	13. Meet Little Brother

"Someone could've mentioned she had the whole mind reading power thing, you know

"Someone could've taken the time to mention she had the whole mind reading power thing, you know. We'd all really appreciate it," an onyx-haired white boy, one of the three Doomed obsessees from the store, complains good naturedly as he, the goth girl, and Tucker enter the room.

The human version of Danny Phantom looks almost identical to his ghost version, the only difference his street clothes, lack of glowing eyes, and the dark hair. He quickly scans the room for safety hazards before coming in farther. The gothic girl follows him in bravely, and stands next to him too close for them to be only friends.

Tucker looks like he's trying to forget he's in a hospital, using my personal trick of just looking at either the floor or people's faces, so you can't tell they're hooked up to tubes. I unconsciously try to run my hands through my probably matted hair as our eyes meet. Ow. Rib pain. Not doing that again.

So should I try to look even more feeble, and give myself an excuse to look this horrible? Who am I kidding? I take a short inventory of my self. Cast, hospital gown, medical gizmos, tubes, IVs. I don't think I could manage to look worse.

Well, there goes my chance at a date. But Danny Phantom's mind said he wanted to see me. Maybe that's a good sign. Though I don't think he'll want to see me again after today. Who would?

"I'm sorry, I forgot to mention it," Dave says innocently.

"Dave? Dave! Long time, no see!" Danny Phantom and Sam rush over to Dave's bed. Sam gives Dave a familiar nod, and Danny Phantom and Dave give each other a few manly slaps on the back before Danny continues, their backs towards me. Tucker stays where he is near the side of my bed, starting to stare at the machines in horror.

"Vlad seriously has you as a bodyguard? What is he thinking? That you're guarding her from the Box Ghost?" Danny asks.

"Very funny. I'm guarding her from her psychotic sister."

"That I can see. You aren't doing a very good job at it, are you? Or did you just decide to give me some exercise, worrying that I'd get a beer belly?"

"Katie, this is Danny Fenton, aka Danny Phantom. That's his girlfriend, Sam Manson, and his right hand man, Tucker Foley," Dave calls over.

"Thanks for saving me," I tell the trio, making eye contact with Danny and his girlfriend. I try, but I'm too shy to meet Tucker's eyes. He doesn't notice, but keeps staring at the IV in my arm. God. His stares are making me look at the needles.

"No problem. But it's Dave who really should be thanking us," Danny says, half-glaring at Dave.

"Thank you," Dave says sincerely.

"You're lucky Jazz packed us off to the college seminar," Danny says, thinking that _This is so totally awkward, being in the same room with Vlad's niece and with Tucker all interested in her. I swear I'm gonna knock Vlad into the next millennium if this is one of his schemes. Maybe it'll just be better if I ignore her. _

"College seminar?" Dave asks.

"It was in the mall. It had about fifty colleges from all over send their representatives to talk to us about preparing for college, choosing a college, getting into a college, and surviving college. College, college, college. I almost couldn't take it anymore, so we snuck out. You're lucky we did, or your ass would be toast right now."

"I would've saved her," Dave assures him. "But you did a better job than I could have. I would've felt bad about hitting a girl, psychotic or not."

"Great. So make me look like the bad guy! Dude, I'm sorry, but her sister was trying to kill her, so that chick is a total bitch. End of story. I don't have a problem with hitting bitches, and you shouldn't either."

Dave smirks a bit.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Sam says, exasperated.

"So why did you leave me to take care of it, anyway?" Danny asks. I already know the answer to that question. Danny probably won't talk to me anyway.

I turn my attention to Tucker, who keeps on staring, eyes as wide as saucers, at the IV needle.

"It helps if you don't look at it, you know," I tell Tucker as Dave launches into an explanation about how I came to Vlad's mansion.

His eyes snap off it and to my face. Not the best place for him to look, either, with what I'm sure is ratty hair and a shiny, oil-clogged face. I smile a bit, as much as I can with a low supply of morphine.

Hopefully my teeth aren't yellow. "Thanks for coming," I tell him. "I really appreciate it. I hate hospitals, and I'd have a hard time visiting my own mother in one," I stammer like an idiot. "Of course, I don't really have to visit her anymore since she's dead and all, but I guess it's just the expression that counts and – am I rambling?"

"I don't care. You can ramble all you want. I'll listen," Tucker grabs a chair, slides it over to my bedside, and straddles it backwards, resting his arms on the back. "Just, maybe, can we pretend we're on a beach or something instead?"

"Sounds good to me. I'd rather be on a beach than here," I tell him, trying to move. "Ow."

"Are you okay?"

I stare back up at him, trying not to look hostile.

"Right, sorry. Standard question. You look great, considering. Hospital gown white looks pretty great on you."

I blush deeply and glance over at Dave, Danny, and Sam, deep in conversation about me, but not even registering my existence.

Great.

"Sorry about them," Tucker whispers, seeing my glance. "They're afraid you're some kind of evil plot set down by Vlad to get at them."

"What do you think?" I ask him conspiratorially.

"I think the only thing you have to do with Vlad is a little blood thing. We all have our flaws," he shrugs, grinning.

"What are yours?"

"I hate Pear, I'm totally afraid of hospitals, and, according to Sam, I don't know anything about buying get well presents for girls."

"Did you get me a present?"

"Yeah, but Sam says you'll pretty much hate it."

"Oh, you didn't have to. And I'll be the judge of it I hate it or not."

"Well first," he tells me, digging around in a saddle bag with solar panels for charging gadgets on the front, "I had to get this to put it all in to appease the gift buying gods," he tells me, pulling out a snow white teddy bear the size of my torso.

How did he fit that in there?

I've never really been the teddy bear type, but after a short squeeze, I realize it's the softest thing I've ever felt. It makes me feel a bit safer.

"It's soft," I tell him. "Thanks," I try to put on a big grin.

"But it's just a teddy bear, right?" Tucker prompts.

"Well, yeah…"

"And you're not exactly the lame teddy bear type, are you? You're smarter and deeper than that."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Hah! Sam was wrong, and I was so totally right. Good thing, too. Well, Sam said that a stuffed animal would be best. I thought a normal teddy bear was a dumb idea, so I used Little Brother here to smuggle in the good stuff."

"Little Brother?"

"That's what I'm naming this line of my genius. It's only an experiment, but if you want, as I get more ideas, I'll update him for you. If you unzip his back, you'll find the latest issues of all the best tech mags in the smuggling compartment. On airport scanners, it'll show up as empty fluff thanks to some lead foil lining. There's also a hidden webcam and mic in his eye, hence the name Little Brother. He also has BlueTeeth speakers in his mouth, and a recorder to fool guardians into believing you're snoring in your own bed. But if Sam asks, it's just a teddy bear. It's all I could come up with on short notice, but I hope to make it a full fledged hidden computer by next year."

"Oh my gosh! Thank you so much! I love it!" I gush. "Did you do this yourself?"

He nods proudly.

"How long did it take you?"

"Only about a day or two," he says modestly.

"You're good."

"You haven't seen the half of it," he grins.

"You'll have to teach me some of this. You're making me feel like an inferior geek."

"My skills are at your service," he says with a little bow. "If you'll give me your email address, I'll make sure you never feel like an inferior geek again."

"Katie Masters at dmail dot com, without any spaces. Email me so I can get yours. Dave won't give me my tablet PC."

Tucker punches the address into his shiny PDA.

"I'm jealous of that PDA, you know. How'd you get it so fast? They're not supposed to be out until next month!"

"I have connections," Tucker grins. "I even got this one for free."

"Get out! How did you manage that?"

"I'm a tech reviewer. Companies send me stuff all the time. Maybe you've heard of me, my screename is –"

"You're Friar Tuck?"

"Yeah," he grins sheepishly.

"How awesome! You say exactly what everyone is thinking, but won't say. That quip about sucky locking features on the LP Traveler was hilarious! Did yours seriously call 911 in the middle of school?"

"Twice. I got rid of it after that."

"Yeesh. I would, too. Wow. Friar Tuck, in the flesh. All I have is that I'm Master K, and -"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're Master K? I thought you were a dude! I used some of your code to hack into the GIW. Genius!"

"GIW?"

"Government anti-ghost installation called the Guys in White. Think Men in Black only one thousand times dumber. Will Smith couldn't even save them now. They liked to give Danny a lot of trouble until I deleted all the records they had on him from their server. With your code, I might add."

"Did you turn it into an auto?"

"You can do that?"

"Sure. I did, anyway. I'm working on the appearance of it now, but, basically, I can tell it what to do and with a bit of AI, it knows how to break down some pretty tough walls. I'll have to use it later on Vlad's stuff and see if it works."

"Could you email me the data you get?"

"Sure, no problem. What are fellow geeks for?"

_Those idiots! What do they know about true medicine? Why, in about ten minutes, I could have her healed! But, no! They won't release her until tomorrow! All they're doing is prolonging her pain and giving her a greater chance of hating me once this is all over. Idiots!_

Vlad's voice broods loudly from the elevators down the hall. I can almost see the shaft in my mind's eye. He's about to enter this floor.

"Guys! Vlad's coming! He's in the elevator!" I say quickly.

Dave snaps his head over to me, closes his eyes, concentrates, and nods. "Get out of here, you three! You don't know Katie. You've never even seen her before, got it?"

Tucker looks down at me, smiles, and mutters, "What's encryption for?"

With that, Danny grabs both Sam and Tucker, and in a blink of an eye, they disappear through the ceiling.

Dave makes a dive for the chair at my bedside. "So," he says casually, staring at me pointedly so I would sound like we'd been talking for a while. "What did you ever do to Carrie to make her so mad?"

"I don't know. Lived, I guess," I say quietly, realizing that morphine would be great right about now, super tech teddy or not. I can count my broken and bruised ribs by the stabs of pain. My neck burns and feels stretched. My leg is just too danged heavy.

"She must've had some kind of grudge before she died. Maybe she was jealous."

"Carrie? Jealous? Of me? Please."

With that, dearest Uncle Vlad walks into the room with a 'sincere', "Oh, Katie! You're awake! I was so worried! How are you feeling?"

"More morphine would be nice."

"We can arrange that," he says, pushing the call button, and like he was ordering a shake and fries at a Nasty Burger, he asks for them to bring me another dose of pain killers. "Katie," Vlad asks after he finishes talking to the nurse station. "What happened to you back there?"

And boy, am I ever gonna need them.

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Technology Translations: (I'll include this following section from now on. I've gotten a few people who are lost on my dumb copyright infringement avoiding names.)

Pear: Apple

BlueTeeth: Bluetooth

Dmail: Gmail

LP Traveler: LG Voyager.

**A/N: A thousand apologies my loyal, wonderful, intelligent, fabulous, kindly readers. Usually, I try to refrain from author's notes, because we're here for the story, and not to hear me blabbling about my life. **

**But today, I really do have to apologize for the long wait. I just feel like I owe a bit of an explanation. Due to circumstances beyond my control, one circumstance being power-bar frying, and therefore computer/Internet/modem/router/laptop/big screen TV (RIP, Viz)/technology-in-general frying lightning, my computer, internet, etc. has been down for a technology eon. **

**So once again, I apologize whole-heartedly and hope you don't hate me. Updates should be consistent and frequent from now on, if there aren't any more unforeseen circumstances. Yeesh. What an oxymoron.**


	14. Floating on Air

"I don't even know

"Katie," Vlad asks after he finishes talking to the nurse station. "What happened to you back there?"

"I don't even know. Dave and I were looking at computers. He just turned around for a second and then she appeared out of nowhere and threw me into a pile of merchandise and stuff. I think there were a few washing machines on me before Dave could do anything. Why didn't you tell me he was half ghost and all?" I ask Uncle Vlad.

_That makes sense,_ he thinks. _She would've been terribly angry, and even Dave would take a minute to disable her. I wonder where the wretched girl is now. _

He believes me. I have all the luck in the world.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to you before that," Dave apologizes.

"It's fine. I'm okay now, aren't I?"

"I suppose. Though none of these doctors know anything about curing people." Vlad glares at the incoming nurse, brandishing a syringe of morphine. She sticks it into my IV, and almost immediately, life goes a little fuzzy.

"So, Katie, where'd you get the teddy bear?" Vlad asks as the nurse leaves.

_If she's hiding anything, this will be the time for a slip up._

"Dave," I mutter drowsily, trying to keep my thoughts straight. "He felt bad. When do I get to go home?"

"Tomorrow, and that's with all your machines and IVs, and a few of my own personal doctors. I'll helicopter you there and make sure you're healed by tomorrow evening."

"You can do that?"

"Sure. Only if you want to, of course."

"How?"

"My doctors know more about curing people than this entire hospital's staff combined."

_And twice as much about killing people and forcing them to do my bidding._

That isn't good.

"That's good," I mutter, beginning to drift off. "Have them do whatever they need to. I don't care. I hate hospitals."

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So…hospital helicopters absolutely suck, too.

Especially when the nurses jostled my freaking broken leg shoving me into it.

Geniuses.

Vlad was in his private jet behind me, but he made Dave ride with me to make sure nothing happened to me. The whole way back, he sat against the helicopter's wall, white-faced and staring at my green cast, trying not to look at things that look too helicopter-ey.

Let's see here. Dave is a half ghost, and he's afraid of flying, not to mention he's my bodyguard. Don't I feel super safe?

No, to answer the question, no, I don't. But it's better than being trapped in the mansion alone with Vlad.

Well, anyway, after Vlad's (ghost) doctors took me off the helicopter, I think they gave me something, because I totally peaced out.

I woke up here, in my room, Little Brother at my side, without any tubes, wires, or casts.

Nothing hurts anymore, though everything is really sore. But compared to this morning, I feel ready to run a marathon. I'd probably change my mind after the first thousand feet, but, whatever.

What's more important is that Dave put all my Better Buy bags on my dumb preppy desk courtesy of Interior Designer Barbie, ready for exploration.

I crack open the tablet PC and spend the next half hour fiddling with it, sprawled out on top of my bed before I bring in my email.

I ignore all my other messages and go straight to the one from Tucker.

"Hey," it reads. "How's Little Brother?"

I smile, feeling happiness bubble up inside me. His message made it past Vlad's firewalls. We can talk.

Oh, right. And maybe I'll be able to find more out about Vlad from Danny.

But, whatever. I can talk to Tucker! And he bothered coming into the hospital just to see me!

I feel like I'm floating up, up and away.

It's only when I slam my head on the ten-foot ceilings that I realize I am.

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**A/N: I know. It's been forever, and this is a micro, crappy chapter. At least it gets something done. And, hey, I soloed this morning in a Cessna 172. You're lucky I'm around to finish this. I know Vlad's actions to heal Katie seem either predictable or stupid, but wait to pass judgment until you read the next few chapters. They'll begin to clear everything up. Everything is not what it seems. Muwahahaha!**

**Happy Labor Day!**


	15. Peanut Butter Jelly Time

After my head slams into the ceiling, I keep on going up, up, and away through the ceiling like it just turned into air.

Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!

What the hell is happening to me? My ascent doesn't stop, but at least it slows down a bit.

I have time to check out the scenery between my ceiling and the floor above me. Strangely, I can make out each wooden floor support, oak, if my shop class knowledge serves me right. The grain looks like hundreds of owls, their piercing eyes staring back at me, the trespasser, accusingly with their mouths gaping open in silence.

Their creepiness definitely suits the house/manse/whatever the hell this place is perfectly. I wonder if this is someone's idea of a sick joke, creepy owl grained wood. Who'd buy this stuff, anyway?

Wait a second. How can I even see the supports, let alone the pattern in the wood? Does Vlad illuminate the spaces between his floors?

No, of course he doesn't. Yet somehow, I can see perfectly.

Okay, maybe my creepiness fits this place, too.

Two seconds later, I squeeze my eyes shut against blinding light as I break into the room directly above mine. The rest of my head floats through on my upward journey, and as my eyes adjust, I can make out the feet of a bed, the bottom part of a desk, and a chair sitting in front of it with a pair of jean-dressed legs dangling to the floor.

"Dave?" My voice has a newfound echo, like I'm in an underground cave.

I'm about eye level with him now as he spins around in his desk chair, exposing his computer screen for a half a second, long enough for me to catch a glimpse of Danny's face on a webcam feed.

"Katie?" Dave jumps out of the chair and using a clear, see through hand catches my ankle before I can soar any higher. I stop immediately, coming to float like a balloon above him. "Oh, no, Katie. I'm so sorry. Danny, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah, and I'm not liking it. He's such a bastard, even to his own family."

"I was adopted. We're not really related," I hear myself say distantly before I say what I really want to. "How do I get down?" I try to keep my voice from breaking. For some reason that I can't exactly pin down, I want to cry.

Am I dead?

"You're intangible right now. We need to take care of that before anything else. Think about being solid again so that you won't just sink through the floor," Dave explains.

Intangible? I want to be able to walk on the ground normally again. Tangible definitely sounds like a prerequisite.

A tingling sensation runs through my body. Looking down, I'm not see through like Dave's hand like I probably was two seconds ago. This is a plus. "Now what?"

"Think about getting back on the ground," Dave prompts.

I don't want to be floating anymore.

With that thought, I plummet six feet to the floor, landing sprawled on my back.

"Ooof."

"Sorry! Are you okay? Maybe that wasn't the best phraseology. I should've told you to do it slowly. Sorry," Dave apologizes, offering me a hand.

I take it and let him pull me to my feet. Solid ground is such a great feeling, not as good as having Tucker message me, but still nice.

It takes me a minute to realize that both of them, Dave and Danny's image, are staring at me like they're waiting for something.

"What?" I ask, snapping them out of their dazes.

"All you're injuries. They're gone," Dave breathes.

"Like magic."

"It isn't magic. It was Vlad. And I'm sure he's overjoyed he came up with the perfect excuse to do this to you," Danny frowns.

I close my eyes. The strange need to cry comes back. "Am I dead?"

"No. Not completely, anyway," Dave says, sounding sickened.

"So I'm half ghost. I don't like it, but it can't be the worst thing in the world, can it?" I swallow hard. I suck at sounding brave.

"Katie, I really don't want to be the one to tell you this, but I don't think you're really half ghost. Not like us, anyway," Dave says quietly.

"Do I even want to hear this?" I ask, the last word coming out in a small sob.

"You have to," Danny's voice answers over the computer speakers. "Vlad likes to experiment like Dave told me your mom did. Why do you think he hired Dave in the first place?"

"Because of my mom's experiments?" I ask.

"Exactly," Dave answers. "By giving me my powers, he thought he'd be able to actually activate my mind reading. It did, but after that, he got greedy. He wanted to be able to control me. He didn't want me to be able to fight. He tried to block any power I could use as a weapon, but it didn't work. He didn't mind. I made a better bodyguard with the ectoplasmic blasts and everything. But I don't think he stopped trying to find a way to make a person half-ghost without some of the powers."

"But I just floated through my ceiling. That's power, right?"

Dave and Danny exchange a glance before Dave answers. "I don't think he meant for you to even be able to do that. He probably didn't even want you to know you were half ghost in the first place. Try to form a blast."

"A blast?"

"Just think about it."

I think about the blasts Carrie threw at me. Nothing happens.

"See? You can't defend yourself like the rest of us. He just wanted you healed and your mind powers enhanced. You could read ghosts' minds before you had any powers. Think of what you'll be able to do now. Vlad will want to use you."

"You really think this will change my mind reading thing?"

"Try it. What am I thinking about?"

I try to bore into his mind. An unfamiliar overflow hits me.

_It's just like what he did to Jenna. He promised. I shouldn't have listened. I have to get her out of here. What'll he do to Danny with this, and all the ghosts who oppose him? He'll take away their powers, and then use her to control them. How did this happen? How could we let this happen?_

"Who's Jenna? What do you mean, what will he do to Danny?" I ask. "Wait, I couldn't read your mind before. What's going on?

The both look at me for a second. Danny takes the lead this time. "Katie, try putting a thought into Dave's head. Vlad's database has talked about this before."

"You're not serious."

"Please?" Dave asks.

"Fine." I've never put a thought into someone's head. I feel so stupid doing it, but I look at Dave and will him to think the lyrics to that one dumb song about the peanut butter and jelly and that danged baseball bat.

"Peanut butter jelly time, right?" he asks.

I nod mutely.

"Try something else, like a command or something."

Raise your right arm, Dave.

Dave raises his right arm, and keeps it up high in the air as they both look at me in absolute terror.

"He's made you into a weapon," Dave manages. "I have to get you out of here. Can I put my arm down now?"

"Yes," I tell him.

It falls to his side. He runs to his door and tries to open it, but it doesn't budge. "What's wrong with this thing?"

"Dave," Vlad's cheerful voice announces over invisible speakers. "Do you want to tell me why you're contacting Daniel? I'm afraid I can't let you out until you do."

"To hell you can," Dave runs to the wall, turns intangible, and tries to go through it. An electrical shock travels over his body. "Ahh!" He jumps away from the wall, completely tangible again.

"Even my walls are smarter than that, Dave."

"Let us out, Vlad!" I call.

"Oh, Katie," he sounds depressed. "You're in there, too. What lies has Dave been telling you?"

"They aren't lies."

"I beg to differ. Good thing my doctors are still here, because I'm afraid I'll have to make you forget about this. I'd certainly hate for you to get overly stressed."

"He can do that?" I ask.

Dave nods, grimacing as he gets shocked once again, trying to get out. It's no use.

We're trapped.

And now I'm afraid I'm going to find out what it's like to be on Vlad's bad side.

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	16. Chain Chain Chain

**Chapter 16**

**Chain Chain Chain**

**000000000000**

"We're trapped," I finally tell Dave, unsure of what to do.

"You came in here through the floor, right?" he asks. "Try that again."

I think of what it was like being intangible, what I would've given anything not to be five minutes ago. Slowly, the floor appears through my transparent legs, and I begin to sink down, down, down. Dave smiles in triumph.

We can get out!

Zap.

Then nothing.

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I float through time and space. Or at least, that's what it feels like. Every once in a while, I can understand a snippet or two of communication, whether it be a thought or a phrase.

"Erase it all," Vlad's cold voice commands.

'_If we do this, we'll kill her,'_ an unfamiliar, worried thought echoes above me. Somehow, I become conscious of new tubes pumping unfamiliar things into my body, keeping me from fully understanding everything.

Something tells me I should be concerned by all this, but I can't be. Straps keep me held down on a cold, hard surface. Soft hands massage my head before sticking things onto my forehead.

"Her brain activity's too high," another unfamiliar voice mutters. "Up the dose."

"Katie! Let her go, or I'll -" Dave's voice yells before the nothingness takes over again.

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"- didn't you? I told you very clearly what I want you to do," Vlad's voice snaps out of nowhere.

"Sir," an echoing voice says timidly. "If we went through with the procedure you're suggesting, it's quite possible she wouldn't survive, and if she did, she wouldn't be of any use to you anymore."

"Then how do you suggest I control her?" Vlad snaps.

"Skulker has several obedience systems he'd be willing to sell you. And you forget she's still part human. Food can be very persuasive. You'd just have to be careful not to weaken her to the point where she couldn't control them anymore."

"Contact him immediately."

"Yes sir."

No footsteps run off, but I feel a presence leave the room.

An untold amount of time later, the world snaps into focus.

Freaking Caesar salad. Vlad knows I know about him. I'm in deep, spoiled sushi.

What happened to Dave? He's in just as deep as I am, maybe even deeper.

Didn't I hear his voice a bit before?

I open my eyes, turn my head to the side, and vomit onto the floor three feet below.

They must've drugged me. I always react like this to anesthesia.

Once I'm finished and I've successfully redecorated the floor (ewww – carrots – chunky carrots and scrambled eggs), I take a look around the green light-bathed room.

As I felt earlier, I'm strapped to a cold, hard lab table in the center of Vlad's lab. The bonds around me glow green, and I doubt they'd let up even if I was intangible.

A dry finger snap sounds to my other side. I whip my head to the other side to find Vlad staring at me dispassionately, ordering a ghost to clean my mess up. A shapeless, green blob of a ghost zips through the air to obey, hoping that his obedience will save his after life.

Five seconds later, the former contents of my stomach is cleaned up. Judging from the help, Vlad is not in a good mood. And bloodthirsty alligators probably have a lot better moods than Vlad does. Yeesh.

"Good afternoon, Katie. How kind of you to join me," Vlad's voice, like his mind once did, now makes my skin crawl. Well, there goes the avuncular cordiality.

"You know, in the glowing green light, you look even taller," I hear myself squeak out.

Coward.

"Awww, little Katie is afraid of Uncle Vlad," Carrie's snotty voice mocks from behind him. She comes into view, all her beauty shining like the sun.

"Go on being pathetic and wimpy. Better yet, make him angry. If you do, then I get to do whatever I want to you as long as I don't kill what geeky, dorky humanity you have left in you," Carrie sneers. "And I get all the cute clothes I want!" she adds, giddy with glee.

"Now, Carrie, don't get too excited. You're only my last resort. We don't want to scare her," Vlad says, falsely kind, speaking as though I'm not even here. "After all," he says, somehow closing the gap between us in under a second so he can get in my face with the creepiest sneer I've ever seen. "I wouldn't want my other darling niece to be anything less than happy."

Somehow, I manage to swallow the sob that comes up. Do I want to give him the satisfaction? Sassafras, no. Aren't I braver than this?

But no matter how hard I flying fish try, I can't stop shaking in fear. It's something in his voice. He controls every aspect of my life, and he means business.

And he knows business. He owns and runs three legal corporations on Earth. Plus a few illegal ones.

Great. I'm even rambling in my mind.

"Now Katie," he continues to sneer down at me, still up in my face, "You can go right back up to your room, your credit card, and my grace if you only agree to be an obedient little niece and do everything that I ask of you without question. It's really so very little of me to ask of you. Carrie has already agreed to it just fine, and she's loving every minute of it, aren't you Carrie?"

"Well, duh," she shrugs, pointing to her new pink polka dotted high heels that somehow glow like she does. "As long as I coat everything I buy in ecto-spray, I'll have the cutest wardrobe of the Ghost Zone, and maybe even Earth, ever!"

"Oh, rapture," I respond, finding my bravery back with Carrie's annoyingly high-pitched voice. I just can't really take her seriously. This is good. I look up at Vlad with a glare that I hope is filled with resolve. "And what if I call you a genuine case of nuts and tell you to suck it?"

"I'd rather us not talk about that if we don't have to," Vlad's smirk doesn't change. "But since you mentioned it, in the end, you'd still do everything I ask you to. It'll just be a lot more uncomfortable and, well, frankly, unhappy for you. But we wouldn't want that would we?"

"Just how unhappy would I be?" I ask, the bravado still there in full force.

"Do you see this lovely necklace you're wearing?" Vlad asks, picking it up off my neck and pulling it into my view. I stretch my neck to look down at it.

A fine silver chain just ever so slightly bigger than the circumference of my neck comes into view above my chin. Vlad holds a jeweled charm of my initials KM between two fingers, the focal point of the necklace. It's beautiful, even though I'm not one for jewelry. How did he get this thing on me?

Never mind. I don't want to know.

"Yes," I answer him. "It's pretty. Why?"

"This necklace isn't only pretty. It's an obedience collar of sorts, designed by a ghost named Skulker. It's specially designed for you. Because of the length, you can't take it off. It has no clasp, you see, and even if you're intangible, you can't phase through it. If you try to remove it by any means other than a biometrically locked remote control I'll have on my person at all times, it will immediately initiate an extreme pain sequence."

"An extreme pain sequence?" I squeak, all bravado gone.

"Indeed," he chuckles lightly. "This wonderful device is specially designed to create agonizing electrical shocks. All of the pain settings will refrain from killing you, though if you ever become unnecessary or more trouble than you're worth, with a press of a button, I can end your life and your afterlife as well."

There's no need to read his mind. It's obvious that he pretty darn well means what he said.

Collard greens and – screw that.

Oh, shit.

I can try obeying him for a while, can't I? If he tells me to do something awful, I just won't do it. At least I'll have a room until then, right?

Vlad can tell I'm debating. I guess he sees it in my face. "Well?"

"Fine. I'll play your game for now."

Carrie whines and pops out of the room, angry I didn't choose the other way.

Vlad's response is the polar opposite. "Excellent," his grin grows wider. "And now for your first task."

The binds snap off and I can sit up. I swing my legs over the lab table to look at him, my head spinning from the sudden movement.

"And what's that?" I ask him.

What I thought was the wall behind Vlad becomes transparent, displaying a holding cell with Dave inside, struggling against the enclosure. At seeing me, he tries even harder, yelling something I can't hear.

"Kill him," Vlad says simply, fingering the remote control to my necklace.

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This chapter is dedicated to Miriam1. Thanks for the push. I needed it.


	17. In Control of the Situation?

Chapter 17

In Control of the Situation?

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Dave pounds on the glass-like wall holding him in, his mouth screaming something over and over. I can't read lips when he's yelling like this, and I still can't hear him.

I sigh in frustration before noticing the rest of him. His faded jeans are more torn than before, with an interesting glowing green-tinged red stain from the largest new gash. His t-shirt is ripped on one shoulder, with more of the interesting color staining the once white fabric.

My still slightly drugged brain makes the connection, and my stomach flip flops.

The stains are his blood.

I take a closer look and notice the black eye and swollen cheek.

It looks like Dave put up the fight I wasn't able to. My stomach drops at the thought. I've never seen him fight, but if Vlad hired him on as a body guard, and took the trouble to keep him here, he must be pretty cotton picking good.

So who could beat him up like this? Was it Vlad?

My stomach drops to the planet's core. Whoever did this could easily kill him. Even if I refuse Vlad, which I will, what will happen to Dave?

Dave stops yelling, takes a breath, and gives me a look of exasperation that clearly says 'why the hell are you worried about me?' I guess I must look worried about him. I am.

If I had been able to control the intangibility thing, would we even be in this mess right now?

Dave starts yelling again. It's useless. I can't understand him when he's all frantic like this.

I'll have to buy some time.

"You can't be serious," I glare at Vlad, buying time. "You know I'm not about to do anything to Dave. I don't care what you do to me," I growl, the bravado back.

Well, heh heh, maybe I do care what he does to me.

But he doesn't have to know that. And it's not like I'm about to kill Dave. For the sake of dessert itself, he's the only sane one in this place other than me. He's taken the trouble to tell me what not to let Vlad know, even though it all blew up in our faces, and it looks like he cares whether I have my free will or not, which is very refreshing in my position.

"I think you'll care eventually," Vlad smirks smugly. "And I'm not stupid. I know you'd take advantage of my hospitality until I asked too much and we'd be right back where we started from. I'm not going to waste the time going through the façade."

"You really have no hope of making me obey you if you're taking this approach," I tell him. "Killing isn't my thing, and you know I'd never hurt Dave. So why bother?"

I turn my back on him and focus on Dave. 'Slower', I mouth.

He nods, understanding. He calms down a bit and slowly begins mouthing words.

His lips form the words 'you can', another word I can't understand, and then 'Vlad.'

Nothing like a sentence missing the key word in a time of such dire circumstances.

I shrug and give him a quizzical look, putting up three fingers to tell him I couldn't understand the third word.

Dave gives a sigh of exasperation, and then his eyes light up. He dips his fingers into the gash on his shoulder.

Vlad chuckles behind me in amusement. "I wonder what he possibly hopes to gain through this. What is he trying to tell you?"

"I don't know yet," I admit.

Vlad, thankfully, doesn't seem too concerned with what help Dave can give me through dipping his hands into his gashes. He's only amused, and isn't making him stop.

Thank sweet apple pie.

I cringe as Dave digs his fingers into the hidden wound under his shirt to get enough blood to begin writing on the glass.

Vlad laughs as Dave writes a backwards 'c'. He isn't even concerned with what help a message written in blood can give me. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it isn't.

Dave quickly finishes the rest of the word with an 'o', 'n', 't', 'r', 'o', 'l'.

I read the final, backwards word.

Control.

You can control Vlad.

Why do I have to be such a useless pile of proteins sometimes? Why didn't I think of this before?

"Control? What did he tell you?" Vlad asks, amused.

"He told me that I shouldn't let you control me," I lie.

Vlad doesn't know about what I can do? But isn't he the one who did all that stuff to me so I could control people?

"And that's the urgent message he had to write in his own blood?" Vlad asks incredulously.

"I guess he's trying to show his support," I shrug.

Now how the hell do I get over there without making him suspicious so I can touch him and control him? Or do I have to?

I take a look back at Dave and call up all my desperation. We have to get out of here.

No, I have to get us out of here.

I snap my head back to Vlad and with all my might send a command towards him. 'Say tangerine.'

"Tangerine," Vlad states a matter-of-factly. He looks surprised and then brushes it off. "I really could go for a tangerine right now," he realizes quietly. "Maybe I should send for some or fly down to Florida…"

With all my might, I send him another command. This one won't seem like something out of his subconscious. He might fight it. 'Give me the remote to my necklace,' I force the thought towards him with all my might.

He reaches into the inside of his jacket and takes out a small remote, walks up to me, and hands it to me in a daze.

I feel my jaw drop open.

I'm not going to waste time on surprise. Before he can realize what he did, I practically mind scream at him 'fall asleep for the next five hours!'

That should give us some time.

Vlad falls helpless to the floor, asleep. He snores, muttering the name "Maddie," every few seconds.

I don't even want to know.

I slip the remote into my jeans pocket. I'll get him to take the necklace off later. Dave comes first.

I turn around to look at Dave. He's smiling in approval. I smile back at him, give him a thumbs up sign, and begin scouring the room for the controls to the cell. Buttons of all colors surround me. Some of them aren't even labeled. The ones that are say things like 'Ghost Lobotomizer', 'Russian Vodka Torture', 'The Rack', 'Dream Sequencer', 'DNA Rearranger', and other super weird things.

I finally find the controls to the cell, bluntly labeled 'Controls to the Ghost/Human/Thought Containment Cell'.

Jeez.

I press the 'open' button and the sheet of ghost/human proof wall slides down into the floor, setting Dave free. He jumps to the floor with a little wince and runs straight over to me and crushes me in a massive hug.

"Oof," I mutter.

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes meekly, letting go and stepping back. "Are you okay? I thought they were going to kill you for a while."

"Me? What about you? Who beat you up?" I ask him.

"Vlad," he answers. "But it wasn't a fair fight! He zapped me with the floor and I was half unconscious when he started swinging at me. If I'd been at one hundred percent, he would've never tried to engage me."

"Please tell me you at least broke one of his bones," I sigh.

"I broke five of them, but he heals so damned fast it didn't really matter," he grumbles. "He was fine by the time they brought you in here and started cutting you up."

"Cutting me up?" I ask, alarmed.

What did they do to me, anyway?

"We'll talk about it later," Dave promises, grabbing me and pulling me towards the lab door. "We have to get out of this madhouse. And good job on him," he tells me, stepping over Vlad.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it before," I shake my head. "Wait. I need to get his thumb prints so we can deactivate this thing."

"What is it? I saw Skulker fuze it on you. I figured it couldn't be anything good."

"It's an obedience collar," I admit, taking out the remote and putting it to Vlad's thumb, not bothering to wonder who Skulker is.

"Owner recognized. Welcome, Vlad Masters," the remote drones. "What action would you like to take?"

"Deactivate obedience collar, please," I tell it.

"What is your password?" the remote asks.

Collard greens and pickled onions.

'Vlad, tell me what your password is,' I command.

"Maddie," Vlad mutters, turning over in his sleep.

"That's just weird," Dave shakes his head.

"Maddie," I tell the remote without comment.

"Access granted. Obedience collar deactivated. It is safe to remove it," the remote quips.

"How do we remove it?" I ask.

"Try pliers or hedge clippers or a chainsaw," the remote answers.

"You mean you can't remove it?" Dave asks, angry.

"No," the remote answers.

"Well, that's just great," Dave mutters menacingly, taking the remote from my hand and shaking it uselessly.

"Let's just go," I tug him towards the door. "We can worry about it later. All that matters is it won't work anymore."

"Sounds like a plan," Dave admits, pocketing the remote as we run up the secret stairs and into the library.

We run out into the hallway. No alarms sound and no ghosts come zooming for us, but I'm officially lost.

Dave, seeing my face, motions to the right. "This way is our best bet. All the untagged cars are in Garage Two."

"Untagged?" I ask him, following him as best as I can after he breaks into a jog.

"No GPS tags. He won't be able to find us using the car," Dave answers, taking a left, a right, and then leading me down a set of green and gold carpeted stairs.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I ask, gasping for breath.

"I'll tell you in the car," Dave answers, not even a bit short of breath from all the running. "If I told you now, he'd be able to rewind the security tapes and find us easy as pie."

That would suck.

Dave leads me down another flight of stairs and finally into a garage of shiny sports cars.

"The Porsche or the Lamborghini?" Dave asks me with a grin.

"The Mustang. We'll be less conspicuous," I answer with a sigh.

"You're no fun," he pouts, looking a bit like a kid who got coal at Christmas instead of his one hundred item list.

"Sorry," I shrug, ducking into the passenger seat of the red Mustang convertible. The interior is tan leather. The GPS is a Garmin. The sound system is a name I can't pronounce.

Dave grabs the keys from a large wall display of about twenty labeled hooks of keys, dives into the drivers seat, opens the garage door, revs the engine, and takes off down the driveway at only about fifty above highway speed limits.

"You wanna cut back on the speed a bit, Dave?" I ask.

"Oh, come oh, Katie. This is a get away. And you wouldn't let me drive the Lamborghini. Let me have my fun," he grins. "I'm a perfectly safe driver at this speed, anyway."

Men and their cars.

"Whatever," I mutter as we approach the gates of the grounds. "What were you talking about back in the lab about them cutting me up, anyway? What did they -?"

I can't finish my sentence. As we zoom through the gates of the mansion, there's a small beep, and everything goes fuzzy.

"Katie? Are you -?"

Then Dave's voice cuts off, and there's nothing at all.

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**A/N: So I gave up on the fake brand names just for this chapter, but just because for some strange reason, the cool-factor of the whole cool-car thing is lost when the cars are called Porch, Lamb, and Musty. Who knew? **


	18. With a Little Help From a Friend

Chapter 18

With a Little Help from a Friend

**DAVE**

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We zoom towards the gates of the grounds, hopefully home free for a while. Of course, I could drive a hell of a lot faster if Katie had chosen the Lamborghini, but, no, we have to be all inconspicuous with the red Mustang.

Granted, while I have seen plenty of Mustangs on the roads of Wisconsin, I've never seen a Lamborghini, so I guess she does have a bit of a point, not that I'll ever admit it aloud.

"What were you talking about back in the lab about them cutting me up, anyway?" Katie asks as we fly through the gates of the mansion. "What did they -?"

Beep! The sound resonates through the car. Katie slumps over in her seat unconscious, her sentence unfinished.

"Katie, are you okay?" my voice half-squeaks.

"Proximal security activated," a cool female voice announces from the remote in my pocket.

Shit.

"What do you mean, proximal security?" I yell at it, cutting back my speed enough so I can slip it out of my pocket. The screen has gone red, with the whole 'Proximal Security' thing flashing in all capitals. "Katie! Katie, wake up!" I shake her gently.

Nothing changes. I shake her harder. She slides down the seat further, oblivious.

"Once the subject is five hundred feet outside the grounds without authorization, the collar immediately renders him or her unconscious," the control explains.

"But we deactivated it!"

"Once the remote leaves the grounds, the memory is wiped. You must reauthorize with your thumbprints and password, Mr. Masters," it tells me.

"But I'm not Mr. Masters," I mutter.

"One suspected that," the control quips. "If you try to remove the collar without authorization outside of the grounds, the subject will be immediately terminated."

Terminated.

I glance over at Katie. Slumped against the door, she looks so helpless. She can't help herself at all because of _him_. That's my job.

I have to find someone to fool the device into deactivating again. Too bad I skipped out on technology class during college, not that it would've helped any, but at least I wouldn't feel like such an idiot. If Katie was awake, I'm sure she'd be able to fool it.

Wait. That kid at the hospital that gave her the gift. Tucker Foley. Danny's friend. He could help.

But Amity Park is the last place we should go right now. I was planning on heading south to Mexico or something where Vlad wouldn't have any influence. And with the Day of the Dead and stuff, ghosts aren't nearly as malevolent down there as around here where we ridicule them with cheap B movies all the time. I doubt any Mexican ghost would be the work-for-Vlad-type. They're too busy chillin' with their families.

But I don't think I'd be able to find someone to help me as fast as I'd like down there. I have zero tech contacts.

Okay, in reality, I have zero contacts at all.

Damn it.

But the kid will help. It wouldn't take too long, and then we could high tail it south. We'd only be there a few hours, right?

Enough time for Vlad to wake up and send in the Calvary.

Oh, damn it, damn it, damn it. If you keep on thinking, you'll only foul up the situation more.

I pull on the interstate going south, accelerating to my former break neck speed. Hopefully, the cops know better than to pull over Vlad's car.

Amity Park, here we come.

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Too Many Hours Later

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It took two food stops, a gas stop, and eleven hours, but, finally, as the sun starts setting, we roll into Amity Park.

I looked up Foley's address hours ago, and use the GPS to drive directly to it. I park a block away, grab Katie from the passenger seat, and turn us intangible and invisible. I sail up, phase into the second story of his house, and, after two tries, locate what must be his room.

I turn visible and lay Katie down on his bed. Red marks cover her cheeks from leaning against the car door too long, and, even though she can't feel it, I'd like to think the pillows are a welcome change.

I take a seat at the technology-covered desk, facing the door.

I don't have long to wait.

He arrives about twenty minutes later, all his attention focused on a PDA in his hands.

"Hello," I greet.

"Yow!" he jumps about a mile, taken completely by surprise. He looks around suspiciously, his eyes lingering on Katie, before he closes his bedroom door with his foot and tells me, "You can't sneak up on me like that, man! And we've been trying to get a hold of Katie for forever! Is she, is she okay?"

"I don't know," I admit. "That's why we're here. We need your help."

"Say no more. With what?"

"See the necklace?" I ask him.

He walks to the edge of the bed to get a better look before answering, "Yeah. I didn't think she was the fine jewelry type."

"I don't think she is. That's some sort of obedience collar Skulker cooked up. It freaked out when we left the grounds and won't let her wake up. If we try to cut it off, it'll kill her."

His face, no exaggeration, goes completely white.

"I need you to either fool it into believing we're Vlad and making it let us take it off, or shutting down the damn thing completely. I don't care how you do it. We have to get it off. Think you can do it?" I ask.

"You said Skulker designed it?" he asks after a minute.

"Yes."

"Then yes, I should be able to do it no problem. It just might take a while," he carefully reaches down and examines the charm on the necklace. Flipping it over, he seems to find what he's looking for and plugs in some sort of skinny cable from his PDA into it.

"I don't think I need to stress how important that the 'while' is very short," I add as he begins scrolling through screens on his PDA.

"I know. You might want to figure out a way how to get this thing off. It says it doesn't have an automatic release."

"How long do I have?" I ask.

He grins. "Two hours, tops."

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	19. Dave the Father Figure

Chapter 18

Dave the Father Figure

or

Dave's Slightly Sadistic Tendencies

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Katie

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The darkness I didn't even know was surrounding me lifts, my adrenaline spikes, and I sit bolt upright, smashing my lips into –

Tuckers'?

After the initial pain of the bump fades, Tucker doesn't do anything to pull back, and neither do I. Electrical currents run through me, starting at my lips and heading all the way down to the tips of my toes.

I could get used to this.

Dave, holding the snapped-in-half necklace, clears his throat from behind Tucker.

I pull away quickly, embarrassed, not meeting either of their eyes.

How's my hair? Do I look like a mess?

Eek. Do I smell?

"Umm…how did I get here?" I ask instead. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Th-this is my room," Tucker stutters, for once not smooth as silk.

I give it a once over. Technology everywhere. Three computers, two laptops, a netbook, PDAs, computer parts, MP3 players, chargers, a cell phone, and an entertainment center complete with surround sound and billion inch screen. My kind of place.

"After we left Vlad's grounds, the damn collar knocked you out. It said it'd kill you if I tried to take it off, so I came here," Dave explains.

"I deactivated it," Tucker concludes modestly.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you? That doesn't seem good enough after you both saved my life," I add, mostly to myself.

"The whole thing is my fault, anyway, so you don't have to thank me," Dave explains, angry at himself.

"I'm just happy you're okay," Tucker adds quickly.

"Thanks," I blush, still not meeting his eyes. I turn to Dave. "And it is not your fault! You couldn't have done anything! You were locked up! And – hey! You still look awful! Do you need the ER or something?"

I hadn't noticed back at the mansion, there wasn't enough time, but Dave is still sort of bloody from what Vlad did to him, even though it looks like he cleaned up most of it. The blood still soaks his clothes around his collar and cuffs, and his limbs still look swollen.

Other than that, though, strangely he seems okay. Didn't he have broken limbs? Didn't -?

"I heal fast," Dave explains shortly. "And going to the ER would only put us on the radar. Vlad woke up hours ago. He'll be on to us now, and the first place he'll look is here. If we're lucky, he's not here yet. But if not…."

"I got it," Tucker and I grumble in unison.

I jump and somehow manage to look him in the eyes. He blushes and looks away. I do the same.

"So what's our next move?" I ask Dave.

"We have to get out of here," he answers.

"But to where?"

"Mexico," he answers in a horrible south of the border accent.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Dave drops the accent. "As soon as possible."

"Can you even speak Spanish?"

"_Claro que sí_," is his response.

I'll take that as a yes.

"How are we going to get there without passports and stuff?" I ask.

"Katie, can't you both, like, fly?" Tucker asks.

Oh. Right.

"But what if someone wants to see our papers or…something?" I ask, trying to avoid looking like an idiot.

Dave coughs. I swear he's hiding a grin.

"You feeling okay?" I ask sharply.

"Yeah. Just a little frog in my throat," he smirks.

"Right."

"If I see Vlad, I'll tell him you went to Canada," Tucker cuts in. "That should keep him busy for a while."

'_God, I wish she'd just stay here…'_ the thought floats into my mind from Tuckers'.

"Even if we did, you'd just be in more danger than usual," I answer him without thinking. "I don't want to do that to you."

Tucker turns red.

Peppermint pepperoni, why did I have to answer his freaking thoughts.

"I thought you guys could only hear ghosts' thoughts. Can you guys, um, read my mind now or something?" Tucker asks nervously.

"Maybe a little," I squeak. "I try not to."

"Vlad did something weird to her. Be happy I still only hear ghosts," Dave adds darkly to Tucker.

Tucker takes one look at Dave, who's over a head taller and almost and entire Tucker wider than him, and gulps.

"Dave!" I say, shocked. "Ignore him, Tucker. He can't be that bad. Look at him," I say, half joking, pointing to the blood.

"Hey! This was the work of Vlad and three other ghosts, thank you very much," Dave defends, his tone light. "And I've always wanted to be the threatening father figure. His face was priceless. Sorry, kid. I'm just messing with you. But really. I still only hear ghosts."

Tucker gives a weak, nervous laugh.

"We'd better go," Dave says cheerfully, enjoying the situation a little too much. "It isn't really safe here."

I don't want to say goodbye. I look over at Tucker. He looks like he has the same thought on his mind.

"Here," he grabs one of the more portable laptops. "It gets Internet from satellites, so you can always stay in touch. Skype me?"

"Duh," I say. I was hoping it'd come out cool. It only sounded depressed.

"Come on, Katie. We have to get a new car before we go," Dave drags me towards the door. "You two can skip all you want, whatever that is."

I give Tucker a little miserable wave as Dave drags me out. It's all I can manage.

When Dave's on a mission, he's really on a mission.

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	20. Katie Surprise

Chapter 19

Katie Surprise

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The wind from our straight up ascent brings tears to my eyes. If Dave didn't have my left arm in an iron grip, I'd have no clue where to go. I shiver as the temperature drops slightly.

I don't know how I'm able to fly this well, and I'd rather not think about it. If I think about it too much, I'll probably drop like a stone to the ground and smash into the ground.

At least the buzzards would enjoy Katie Surprise.

Through squinted eyes, I watch as Dave checks a little altimeter on his wrist.

Where the pancake did he get that?

"Three thousand feet," he announces beside me. The rush of wind stops immediately, and I make a point of not looking down. He keeps my arm in an iron grip, but somehow manages to lead my gently towards the border. Even flying at top speed, it'll be a long trip.

"Are we going to stay up here?" I ask.

He nods.

"Then you don't have to hold on to me like this," I manage to point at my left arm and keep Tucker's little laptop nestled under my armpit.

"I don't want you to fall. You don't have much flying experience. Actually, I don't think you have any."

I look down for a second. The cars look like ants. I gulp. "Hold away, then."

We travel in silence for about an hour before the laptop dings. The winds up here aren't nearly as bad as I thought they'd be, and my eyes don't water as much as they did on the way up.

The laptop dings again. It's probably Tucker, already sending a message.

Yes!

"Will you let me go so I can answer this?" I ask Dave.

"What?" he asks, acting like the light wind could actually block me out.

"Please?"

"We have to keep going. Texting while driving is illegal," he tells me, all business. "Skyping while flying should be, too."

"Well it isn't."

"Fine. Just keep up," he tells me gruffly.

"I know you're scared that Vlad will find us. You don't have to try to hide it," I sigh as he lets me go. I snap the laptop open, keeping pace with him without a problem.

"Yes I do," he mumbles as I navigate to the messaging program that dinged. "I'll tell you if you're about to hit a bird, okay?"

"What about a plane?"

"Nah."

I smile as I bring up the message. I expect Tucker's face to fill the screen.

Instead, I get Vlad's.

I stop in midair.

"Hello, darling niece," he says darkly. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for the nap. It was so thoughtful of you."

Dave stops a few hundred feet in front of me and rushes back to my side to watch the screen.

"And Dave. You're looking well," Vlad adds.

"No thanks to you," Dave grumbles.

"Oh, it is indeed thanks to me that you've healed so quickly. Who gave you your powers?"

"You would've killed my fiancé," Dave snaps.

Fiancé?

"And then she left you when she found out, didn't she?" Vlad smirks. "It's a pity you quit the Marines for her and they wouldn't take you back. Where else could you go but to me? After all, you had to pay off that pricey engagement ring, not to mention the loan for her dream car. Wasn't it a Volvo?"

"BMW," Dave sneers.

"Ah, yes. You know, if she hadn't left you, you'd probably have children Katie's age by now. Such a shame, such a shame."

"Shut up," Dave's eyes flash red. I've never seen him like this. He looks…like a ghost. An evil ghost out for revenge.

"Umm…Dave?" I ask quietly.

He doesn't answer. His eyes bore into the computer screen, probably trying to kill Vlad.

Vlad's smirk grows. "Now there's the nerve I was looking for. I was wondering where I'd find it. I should've known you'd be so sentimental, especially how you've been looking after poor little Katie. You haven't been doing such a bang up job, have you?"

Dave's eyes flash a deeper, darker red.

I open my mouth to tell him he's doing fine, but I don't get the chance.

Ghosts appear out of thin air, surrounding us. Only one has any form other than a dark blob, a hulking ghost with a metallic body and flaming hair. He goes straight for Dave with a strange gizmo that looks like a cattle prod.

Dave, in his fury, doesn't have the reaction time to stop it. The ghost pokes it into his stomach, and sparks fly. Dave screams before loosing his ghostly aura. He drops down a few hundred feet before one of the shadow ghosts phases into him and takes over his body.

Dave floats up back beside me, his eyes empty and black. Oh, no.

"There we are," Vlad's voice says from the computer. "That's better. I'm so glad we had this little chat, Dave."

"Me, too," he says in monotone.

I turn to fly away as fast as I can, but the shadow ghosts around me charge up with energy beams. Energy beams I can't form, and I definitely can't block.

I freeze.

Wait a second.

'Leave us alone,' I order the ghosts with all my might.

They all laugh, a dead, eerie sound.

Vlad chuckles from my computer. "Katie, Katie, Katie. If I know how to give you control powers, don't you think I know how to block them? Bring them to me, Skulker."

"With pleasure," the ghost with the flaming hair answers. He throws an energy beam at me that wraps around my wrists and ankles, glowing green ectoplasmic rope. A leash forms out of the rope around my wrists, trailing towards Skulker.

He smirks down at me as he grabs the leash. "If you give me any trouble, child, I will knock you senseless."

As he yanks me along at high speed, the shadow ghosts and Dave following behind us, I have no doubt that he would.

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	21. Now That You're Home

Chapter 20

Now That You're Home

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Wow.

My eyes are open. I think they've been open, but now everything is different.

Now I can see.

The adrenaline wears off in a snap, and, woozily, I focus on IVs stuck into both my hands and all up my arms. A heavy helmet, with more wires sticking into my skull, makes my neck sag to the right. None of this was here before. When did I even go to sleep?

My throat burns, and I never knew I could feel so nauseous without actually throwing up.

I try to move, but my body doesn't seem to want to obey my brain. I try to lift my arm. Nothing. I try to wiggle my toes. Nothing. The harder I try, the more nauseous I get, until, finally, I lose my lunch straight into my lap. I'm too out of it to care.

I still feel nauseous.

Isn't throwing up supposed to fix that?

I guess not.

Movement to my right catches my attention, and a floating black blob makes me see through. The mess falls to the floor, and he turns me back to normal and cleans it all up with something that looks sort of like a vacuum.

Great. I'm hallucinating. I probably didn't even puke.

The hallucination finishes cleaning up my imaginary puke. It looks like it's part of a movie I'll never be in. It disappears out of my line of sight. I can't move my eyeballs. All I can see is my arms and lap, and a bit of my feet. The world doesn't seem real. Except for the burning and nausea. That's real.

I'm probably dreaming. But I thought you couldn't hurt in dreams. Did I take drugs or something? No, I wouldn't take drugs. But I don't know what's in the IVs. Are they the reason I can't move or focus on the real world? Are they causing the hallucinations about blobs and barfing?

A male voice to my right says, "God, that's the third time in an hour. What the hell are they giving her?"

I think I know that voice from somewhere, but my eyes won't track to see who it is.

How did I get here anyway? I want to go home.

Where is home?

"I don't know, but she doesn't look so good," another younger male voice tells the first voice, worried. "And it doesn't look like it's getting any better."

I think I know him from somewhere, too. But I guess that's always the case in dreams.

"Would you?" the first voice asks. "Besides, you don't have any room to talk, Tucker. You got worked over pretty good by Carrie."

Carrie?

Doesn't ring a bell.

"Jesus, I'm glad Katie's adopted. That Carrie chick is a total psycho bitch. No wonder Vlad hired her. You aren't making fun of me because I got beat up by a girl, are you?" the second voice, apparently named Tucker, asks.

Katie?

Nope. Don't know her.

Vlad?

Who the hell names their kid Vlad?

"No, don't be silly," the first voice says. "I'm surprised you put up such a good fight. I'm sort of impressed you put up a fight at all."

"I wasn't going to give her that computer without a fight! It led them right to you!" the second voice, apparently named Tucker, argues. "It's all my fault, Dave!"

Apparently, the first voice's name is Dave.

Dave and Tucker. Tucker and Dave.

Dave.

Tucker.

Nope. Not ringing any bells.

Who are these people? I should know them, but I don't.

In fact, do I know my own name? The nausea intensifies as I rack my brain for my name, but nothing leaves my stomach. I can't come up with a name, either.

This isn't normal. Something isn't right. It's just a dream. You'll wake up eventually. You'll know your name then and who those two guys are.

Maybe.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Dave tells Tucker. "He would've found us anyway. He probably has tracking chips in me, and I'm sure he put them in Katie ever since he did all the hokey stuff too her, too."

"Hokey stuff?" Tucker asks.

"The mind crap. He gave her ghost powers too, but somehow made it so she can't form ectoblasts. Probably so she can't protect herself very well."

Mind crap? Ghost powers?

These people need reality checks.

"That won't stop her," Tucker says with vigor.

It sounds like he has a thing for this Katie girl. The other Dave guy sounds more fatherly when he talks about her. Is Dave Katie's father? Is Tucker her boyfriend? He sounds too young to be her husband.

"No, I doubt it will. It doesn't stop you or Sam. And it doesn't seem to help Danny much, anyway," Dave adds with a joking tone. "You with us, Danny?"

Danny and Sam.

Two more names that should mean something, but don't.

A new young male voice enters the mix with a groan. "Working on it. Skulker must've updated the spectral energy neutralizer. My head feels like it's going to explode. I can hardly think." Danny, I guess that's his name, pauses in between each sentence, taking all his effort to get the next one out.

"How is that different from everyday?" a sarcastic female voice asks. I suppose that's the Sam Dave mentioned.

"You really shouldn't have said you thought Carrie would be easy to beat because she's a girl, dude," Tucker says.

"Yeah. I got that," Danny says, pausing in between every word now. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Sam asks, her voice sharp.

"She's a Paulina girl! God, let it go," Danny staggers.

"Actually, while we're at it, Dave is in a spectral energy neutralizer, too. He isn't complaining, are you Dave?" Sam asks.

"Well –"

A new voice cuts off Dave's. "It sounds like we're all having a nice little chat," a deep sinister voice says from my left. I don't like the sound of him already. And if one more person starts talking, I won't be able to keep them all straight.

"Vlad," all the other voices utter with increasing degrees of hate.

Yikes.

Well, at least his voice matches his name.

"Has she contributed anything?" Vlad's voice continues.

No one answers him. Steps ring through the room, and a man comes into my line of vision. I can't see him clearly. He grabs my chin and squeezes hard, moving my head so I can look him in the eye.

His eyes. If I could move away, I would. They're terrifying.

He looks at me like someone might look at a computer, cold, hard, scientific, analytically. Then he lets go of my chin and steps back. My head sags back to the right, and my stomach heaves more imaginary barf onto the man's shoes.

"Cheese logs! Won't you ever stop that? That's the second time today!" the man seethes. "I know you can hear me now. If you do that again, you won't have a stomach anymore."

My head whips to the left as he gives me a hard slap. I guess it's real barf, then.

"Hey, coward! Leave her alone!" Tucker and Dave yell at Vlad. The others say something like it, too, but I can hear Tucker and Dave over them.

There's a small beep. Screams of pain replace their yelling. He's torturing them because of me.

Stop! I try to say. I can't.

An eternity later, the screams stop.

"Now, what were you saying?" Vlad asks them.

Silence.

"Very good," Vlad's smirking voice says. "I can't believe you people have such a problem with an uncle giving his favorite niece a welcome home present. Shocking, really. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very packed schedule today. The doctor will see you now, Katie."

Katie.

My name must be Katie.

Is Tucker my boyfriend?

Is Dave my father?

That isn't bad at all.

But that Vlad man is my uncle?

This is my home?

That really sucks.

Vlad's footsteps echo away, and a new hallucination looms in front of me and begins tugging at my IVs, inserting new ones, and adjusting the helmet, shoving probes deeper into my skull.

Faintly, I hear Tucker and Dave and Sam and Danny yelling in protest.

Then, all at once, the world disappears again.

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	22. Ghost? Say What?

Chapter 21

Ghost? Say What?

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The world returns hazily with a lurch, pain and nausea along with it. A wall as blank as my memories spans in front of me, frowning at me with gray sternness. I can't move to see if anything around me is more inviting.

"Katie, you have to fight it!" a male voice urges someone.

Wait. His name. I know this. His name is Dave. He always talks as though he's my father.

I'm Katie.

What am I fighting?

A strange whooshing sound echoes through the room, accompanied by a green flash of light and a scream of pain.

"Danny," Tucker urges. "You got to stop. You're killing her!"

"I can't," cracks Danny's voice. He's crying.

But what for?

All at once, a badly burned teenaged girl slams into the wall in front of me and falls to the ground in a limp heap. Her black clothes are ripped to shreds. Her hair flies this way and that, covering tear-stained cheeks.

What's wrong with her? Why doesn't she get up?

I hazily watch as the why floats slowly through the air and comes to a stop in front of me.

Holy artichoke.

It's a ghost. At least, I think it's a ghost. He looks about the girl's age, dressed in a black and white jumpsuit with his back turned towards me. His hair is snow white.

And he's floating through the air, a green light growing brighter in his right hand, aimed towards the girl.

A ghost.

Ghosts exist?

My adrenaline spikes, bringing the world into sharp focus.

Immediately, the ghost turns away from the girl to someone to my far left I can't see. His shoulders relax a bit, and his movements look more natural than before. The green light in his hands grows brighter as he breathes, "You son of a bitch."

That's Danny's voice from before.

Danny is a ghost?

He seemed so nice earlier. Why was he trying to hurt her?

Or was he?

"Cheese logs. So that's what happens when she wakes up," Vlad's voice says before addressing Danny. "Now, Daniel, be reasonable. I wouldn't have actually made you kill her."

The whining, blasting sound fills the room. The Vlad man screams. The green blasts must be hitting him.

"Not the remote control!" Vlad yells.

No one pays any attention.

A black boy dressed in cargo pants, his head covered by a red beret, runs over to the girl and shakes her gently. "Sam? Sam?" He asks in Tucker's Voice.

So that's Tucker, and that's Sam.

I hope she's okay.

"Do you need my help, Danny?" Dave asks.

"Got it covered," is Danny's short response.

A thirty-ish man appears in front of me, shaking my shoulders gently. "Katie, are you all right?" Dave's voice asks me. Somehow, I feel safer already.

"You're Dave, right?" I manage.

He sucks in a breath. "Yes."

"I can't remember anything," my voice breaks. Tears start rolling down my cheeks. "The only reason I even know my name is because that Vlad man said it."

"It's fine, it'll be fine," he tells me as a weight comes off my head. My neck stops screaming in pain. I hadn't even noticed. "We'll figure out how to fix it," Dave reassures me quietly as stabbing pains in my skull and arms disappear. "Don't worry about it. All the needles are gone now. Maybe it will help."

"Is Sam okay?"

"I'm conscious, at least," the girl sits up next to Tucker, saying everything through clenched teeth.

Geeze, she's a trooper.

Dave begins to unsnap the restraints that bind me to the chair. I hadn't even noticed them, either. As he undoes the last one, I slump forwards, still unable to move. Dave catches me and gently lays me on the ground where I can't fall over.

Great. Now I have a lovely view of a ceiling cluttered with filled glowing green cages. Screaming green blobs beg for their freedom in high-pitched whines I shouldn't be able to understand.

Their screams fall into frightened silence. The background blasts from Danny cease. Dave snaps his head over towards Danny, his eyes going wide.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" a whiney, snarky voice announces from somewhere beyond my toes. "You don't even remember who you are. And they said you were the smart one. Please. You're the one lying on the floor in your own barf while I'm here being paid for getting revenge. Who's the smart one now?"

In the distance, Danny turns to stop the new voice. Vlad comes into view, a creepy looking dude with white hair in a ponytail, dressed in a tailored suit. He uses the distraction of the new voice. Magenta energy blasts form in his hand, hitting Danny in the back. I wish I could close my eyes against the light of it.

Vlad is a ghost?

I don't have time to think about it. The blast continues. Danny takes in a surprised breath, and, instead of turning to defend himself, falls to the ground. A bright ring appears around his waist and splits, moving up and down his body, leaving a normal teenaged boy, complete with jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt, lying unconscious on the floor in the ghost's place.

Can someone be a ghost and a human at the same time?

This is just too weird.

"That's much better," Vlad brushes imaginary dust off his lapels. He snaps, and a green blob appears.

Without a word from Vlad, the blob takes Danny and places a small cube the size of a multi-pack of gum at his feet. The cube grows. Danny is now inside a black as night, glowing green prison. His head slumps to the side. He's still out.

"Now you can continue, Carrie," Vlad says cheerfully.

Six feet above me, Dave's hands glow green, charging up a ghostly blast.

I let out a little whimper of surprise and fear. What's going on? Why am I here? Is everyone here a ghost? Should I be afraid of Dave now?

Dave steps in front of me protectively, blocking my view of Danny and Vlad. "Please don't be afraid, Katie," Dave tells me without turning around. "You're like us, too."

Say what?

"Oh, please," the snarky voice tells Dave. "You aren't any better. I have enough anger to get past you any day."

"Is that what your dearest Uncle tells you?" Dave asks her, the light in his hand growing stronger. "I wouldn't bet on it."

Then the blasts start flying.

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	23. The Fall of the House of Vladdie

Chapter 22

The Fall of the House of Vladdie

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Back and forth, back and forth they exchange blasts. Dave seems to have the upper hand, but not by much, but maybe that's just because I'm so out of it.

I'm strapped to the chair again, the heavy helmet weighing my neck down. Vlad has his back turned to me, watching the fight in amusement.

Why are they fighting, anyway? What's going on here? Why am I here? Why do ghosts exist?

What's going on?

Vlad's darkly amused voice cuts through the haze, "Ah, I'm afraid it's time to end this pointless little rebellion. Dave, I think you've outlived your usefulness."

A buzz goes through my body, and, all at once, Dave's blasts stop, and the snarky voice begins pounding him over and over and over. The once green flashes are now almost a hot white, blinding me as they hit their target.

"Hey! I could totally get used to this!" the bright, snarky voice declares as the blasts keep coming, now drawing blood and creating dark burn marks over Dave's skin.

Stop it! Why won't she stop it? Why won't he defend himself like before?

"Katie," Tucker's voice shouts. "Vlad's made you into a living ghost remote control. He's controlling you so he can build a ghost army. You have to fight it!"

Katie. That's me.

But…what did Vlad do to me?

Ghost army?

What the hello kitty?

Next time I lose my memory, I hope I drop into a CEO position at Microsoft or something. Not some human ghost remote control position.

"Please, Katie," Tucker's voice pleads. "You have to fight it now!"

Fight what? The buzzing wasn't here before Dave stopped fighting…so maybe that's what that is.

I close my eyes in concentration, and think of stopping the annoying buzzing through my body.

The sensation disappears. Dave drops to the ground, bright rings revealing a human beneath a ghost as he falls.

I'm too late.

"Do I have to stop, Uncle Vlad?" the snarky voice asks, disappointed.

"Of course not, Carrie, my darling niece," Vlad says.

That's all the encouragement snarky voice, Carrie, needs. She continues to batter the unconscious body of Dave, grinning evilly and flipping her blonde hair as she goes.

She won't be winning Miss Congeniality anytime soon.

Tucker said I can control ghosts. That Carrie chick is a bitch, if I can call her a chick since she's a ghost and all, but whatever. I don't think I like her very much. My crazy stomach definitely doesn't like her.

Carrie, stop it. You're a ghost right? Move on or whatever it is you're supposed to do.

The blond goes stiff, freezing in mid-blast. Her mouth opens in a small 'O' of surprise, her eyes wide as dinner plates, as her red heeled feet disappear in a flash of white light and rings of green, red, yellow, and blue. The flashing lights move up towards her bare knees.

She begins to scream. "Katie, you total bitch! First you let me die, now you're making me leave the after life, too? I hate you! Everyone hates you! You're nothing but a pathetic geek and no one will ever like you and you're just going to be Uncle Vlad's test subject for the rest of your short, stupid life and you're going to grow up miserable and alone and –"

And then she was gone.

Just like that, the last of her disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

Did I really let her die in the first place?

Geez, I should've done a better job. I definitely think the vengeful dead shouldn't get to hang around.

Now, Carrie is gone, at least. Who is she, again?

Vlad whips around, his speed making my stomach roll even more, and gives me a death glare that makes my skin crawl.

A voice pops into my mind, not my own, but Vlad's. _'That girl is the most irritating, pointless waste of my time ever. She couldn't even leave me with Carrie. Cheese logs, her anger made her a good minion. Now I'll have to do my fighting by myself. How tiresome. Dave is out of commission, though, and Daniel can't do anything as long as he stays in the spectral energy neutralizer. Samantha is probably bleeding internally. Tucker is a waste of oxygen, in the first place. I don't have anything to worry about. My army will still be a reality as long as I up those doses in Katie. I'll call that ghost doctor in a minute. But for now, the least I can do is show my _darling_niece exactly how I feel about her.'_

Oh, never mind. I'll wonder who Carrie is later.

My whole body trembles and shakes as Vlad continues to stare down at me, a sneer in his lips and rage in his eyes. My stomach can't take it, and what feels like the very last contents of my stomach splatters onto his shoes.

After turning transparent and letting the mess fall to the floor, Vlad winds up to give me a good slap, "Why you –"

Please, don't, Vlad.

His hand stops five inches from my face and drops to his side. The rage disappears from his eyes, replaced by fear. Fear. Fear is good.

Fear is great, actually.

Fall asleep, Vlad.

He falls unconscious into a large pile of barf, muttering the name "Maddie" every few seconds between snores.

Oh, brother. Any woman crazy enough to go after him can have him. They deserve each other.

Voices that have been talking in the distance for a while now come to my attention.

"Just a minute. Almost got it, almost got it – yes!" Tucker exclaims happily.

I try to move my head to my left to see what all the triumph is about, but I can't move with this stupid helmet on my head.

"Spectral energy neutralizer neutralized, Tucker," a computerized monotone announces. "Human containments now uncontained, Tucker."

"Yes," Danny exclaims with a bright flash of light. "Tucker, I have to get Sam and Katie to a hospital, and probably Dave, too. Can you carry Katie?"

On hearing his name, Dave pushes himself up off the floor, still burned badly and bruised, but sort of okay, I think, I hope. It's hard to tell while the room keeps spinning.

"No, not me," Dave says. "I'm fine. I told you I heal fast. What happened to Carrie? And Vlad?"

"Katie and her super mind powers of doom happened," Tucker answers, appearing in front of me and gently removing the heavy helmet from my head. He plucks too many needles out of me too, which up until now, I hadn't noticed as they pumped weird things into my body.

"I made Carrie move on," I slur. "And I made Vlad go to sleep. Get out of the way, Tucker."

"Wait? What? Oh," Tucker steps to the side as my stomach juices pour onto Vlad's suit.

"Done," my words are sloppy, but, thankfully, I can't taste anything. "How'd you get them out, anyway? Wasn't that the voice of a Challenger 4.5 PDA?"

"So you can't remember your own life, but you know what a Challenger 4.5 sounds like?" Tucker asks. "Will you marry me?"

"Ask again in five years," I slur.

"Hah! It's a drugged up maybe, but it's definitely a maybe," Tucker announces with glee.

"Not now, Tucker," Sam groans in pain.

"Sorry, Sam," Tucker apologizes sheepishly as he removes all sorts of restraints holding me to the chair, carefully holding me up because I can't support myself.

"Now, we have to get to the surface. Dave, I'll take Sam and Tucker if you can take Katie. We'll head for that one holy name hospital in Green Bay and – "

Sam cuts Danny off, her voice riddled with pain but still firm. "No, Danny. It's time for some payback."

Danny floats into my line of view, staring at what must be Sam's injuries with eyes so full of pain they might burst. I made him hurt her.

I made him hurt her.

Why did I do that? Why couldn't I fight it better? Why couldn't -?

"Dave, can you take Tucker and Katie up? We'll be right behind you," Danny explains.

"Sure thing, as long as I get the next chance to beat him senseless," Dave answers, floating towards Tucker and me.

"Wait…he's already senseless. I want him awake for this. Katie? Can you wake him up?" Danny asks.

"Gladly," I answer as Dave carefully scoops me off the chair, grabs Tucker's wrist, turns us see through, and heads for the ceiling, somehow probably able to phase us through.

That's weird.

Vlad, wake up. Don't fight Danny.

As we fly through the ceiling, with a groan, Vlad awakens.

A minute later, Dave sets me down on the verdant lawn, far away from a looming mansion that seriously needs to cut back on the doom and gloom.

The rumbling begins three seconds later, along with an earsplitting wail filled with despair.

As the castle/mansion falls down, falling inwards, I swear that somewhere in the wail filled with sadness, I can hear Danny's voice filled with anger uttering, "You made me hurt Sam. If I ever see your sorry face again, if you ever even think of Katie again, don't expect to survive. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get a few people to the hospital. Enjoy the pieces of your mansion."

The wailing stops, the mansion completely obliterated.

Thirty seconds later, Danny appears holding Sam, and, together, the five of us head off for a hospital with a holy name.

Collard greens and pickled onions, I hate hospitals.

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	24. Fight or Flight

Chapter 23

Fight or Flight?

Three Months Later

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As I float into the kitchen through the ceiling, I can't help frown. Dave, still wearing the hole-filled gray sweats he wears to bed, glares down at the classifieds at the kitchen table of our Amity Park two bedroom apartment. 2J isn't the Ritz, but it definitely isn't the pits, either. It's in a 'mixed income' neighborhood, which seems to be the code words for a place I'd have to watch my back in if I couldn't, well, hear people's thoughts and control ghosts into doing my bidding. Our building isn't bad, though. The neighbors are mostly elderly retired folks on mixed incomes who can't hear worth a darn, so they never hear any random crashes, bangs, or screams of ghosts that occasionally pass through.

If they do, they're probably not bothered since most of them are old enough to know the freaking ghosts when they were alive.

Okay, okay. Maybe that's a little harsh, considering some of these ghosts have been around longer than time itself, but Mrs. Waterstat totally recognized Poindexter the other day. Apparently, his real name was Brad, but that doesn't suit his geeky demeanor enough.

Yeesh.

Dave shuffles the paper slightly so I can see the front page. I sink into the chair across from him, twisting my head slightly so I can read the headliner.

_VERDICT GUILTY IN MASTERS ATTEMPTED MURDER TRIAL_

_Vladimir Masters, billionaire owner of Dalv industries, has been sentenced to fifteen years in prison after being found guilty of attempted murder, human experimentation, and severe child abuse. After receiving custody of his sixteen-year-old niece earlier this summer, Masters injected his niece with dozens of illegal and unapproved substances he claimed would give her contact with the hypothetical realm known only as "The Ghost Zone". This cocktail of drugs was nearly the same as the mixture developed by Professor Thomas Welling formerly of the University of Wisconsin that killed two students in the '80's. Welling was sentenced to ten years, considering his test subjects gave legal consent, unlike Masters' niece. When one of Masters' employees brought Masters' niece to the hospital following the experiments, doctors were astounded that she lived through the mixes of cyanide, arsenic, LSD, and several more unidentifiable substances in her bloodstream. Masters' niece, whose name is being withheld, has fully recovered and has been moved to a more suitable home situation._

Dave and I gave our testimony under oath months ago and moved on with our lives. It's not as if prison bars will hold dear old Uncle Vlad. I hate thinking about everything that happened at the beginning of the summer, and I don't need to think about it, either. It only slows me down, distracts from the much better now.

Granted, I still only remember _part_ of Uncle Vladgate, but at least I know what happened for the rest of it.

"Are you still looking for a job? I already told you I'd threaten to control Vlad if he didn't pay you every month," I tell Dave, untwisting my head as I slide a stack of three pancakes towards me. I pop the top of the syrup bottle and drizzle the fluffy concoctions with sugar water; they look great, even if they were frozen in a box a few minutes ago.

Details, details.

"I don't want any of his money," Dave mutters, flipping to the next page. "We already have enough of it for your college fund and general upkeep the courts made him give us."

Ah, the only upside to Uncle Vladdie's conviction. The green stuff really comes in handy, considering Dave's virtually been Vlad's slave for the past few years. No savings to speak of. But do we care?

Well, yeah, every once in a while, especially when a new technological gizmo comes out that I can't afford on a minimum wage salary from the local Better Buy.

Stupid misers.

Since I can't touch the money from Vlad, Dave and I have battles: tech vs. the week's vegetable supply. I usually win seeing how technology lasts longer than the minerals from stupid veggies, and I convinced Dave clothing would be a more expensive obsession. And I can get my supply of green nutrients from just sitting near Sam. I swear her skin is starting to turn green.

"But you are looking for a job?" I prompt.

"No. I'm reading the crime reports. I'm not so sure Amity Park is the safest place for us to live. Look at this," Dave shoves the list of crimes in front of me, trying to keep a straight face.

I glance down at the long list of crimes, most of which are about ghost fights and attacks and the outcomes. Anything involving me has been discretely starred for clipping. Dave sticks those into a shoebox he thinks I don't know about.

"I don't know, it doesn't seem too bad to me," I tell him, staring at the stark black print on grey paper instead of the actual words.

Dave rolls his eyes. "Are you looking at this? There're unexplained robberies, rioting, and general stupidity. And don't get me started on this Danny Phantom character and the weird chick who can control ghosts. Mexico would be better. Much better."

"I'm not sure about the controlling chick, but Danny Phantom isn't all that bad," I shrug, shoveling pancakes into my mouth, knowing very well that Dave wouldn't leave Amity Park for the world. "And I like it here. Don't you?"

"You like Tucker here. There's a difference," Dave gives a mock sigh.

"I like Amity Park, too," I insist, slathering more butter onto my pancakes. "Don't you?"

"It's alright, I guess. As your guardian, though, I want to make sure you have a safe environment to grow up in," Dave tells me, grabbing the paper back and scanning the crime reports again.

"Did you find a job since you aren't looking at the classifieds, then?" I prompt one last time.

"Manager at the Nasty Burger," Dave declares proudly, sticking his nose in the air.

"You're joking," I tell him flatly.

"You're right. I'm the new Director of the GIW."

"Seriously, now," I insist.

"Fine," Dave rolls his eyes. "I'm the new ghost security consultant for the city."

"I thought the Fentons did that," I admit.

"They do," Dave explains. "But now I do, too. Someone has to keep the Fentons' feet firmly planted on the ground."

Eh. He has a point.

"So you're being paid to sit back and watch a bunch of teenagers do all the work?" I ask.

"Hey, I help out when you guys need it," Dave folds his hands behind his neck and leans back leisurely. "You hardly ever need my help, but I pitch in when I can. My real job is keeping the Fentons from spending all the city's money, anyway. I'm designing ghost security systems for township buildings, too, which actually are pretty neat. And then there are ghost evacuation procedures and ad campaigns on what to do if you see a ghost. I'm not just sitting on my butt all day."

"Just most of the day."

"Hey, if you have a problem with it, we can go down to Mexico," Dave tells me. "With the whole ghost thing, I could be running a drug cartel before you can blink."

"What a wonderful environment for me to grow up in," I tell him with an eye roll as I finish off the last of my breakfast. "Do you have any other clever things to say before I go to school?"

"Is your boyfriend here yet?"

"Present," Tucker answers, sauntering into the kitchen in his ever present red beret. Danny and Sam file in after him, giving greetings to Dave and me as they go.

"Good. Don't get caught getting into any fights. It's your first day of senior year. Make a good impression," Dave tells us.

"What, you expect me to sit through school all day without missing even a few minutes of a class? I don't think I'm equipped for that. Never done it before, and I'm not about to start now," Danny insists. "Katie might be able to make ghosts go away if they're giving too much trouble, but it's still good for me to keep in shape in case something really major comes along. It's a community service."

"I just said not to get caught," Dave shrugs, smiling into his paper. "Have a great day, everyone."

"You too, Dave," we tell him in unison, heading out the door.

"Enter the fabulous world of schedules. Who do we have this year?" Sam asks.

"How did I get Lancer again?" Danny groans.

"Who's Lancer?" I ask, glancing down at my schedule and finding the name first.

"You'll find out," Danny groans. "He'll be a wonderful welcome to the society of Casper High."

"God, I have him too," Sam sighs. "Who knew they'd move him up again? I was sure I was done with him freshman year. It didn't exactly work out that way."

Why do I see Lancer as a middle aged, bald, overweight literature teacher who shouts book titles instead of obscenities?

Oh, right. Mind reading.

Forgot. Totally, completely forgot.

"Lancer's pretty rough, Katie. If the new school is too much, we can always skip," Tucker says, raising his eyebrows up and down. "I don't want you to get too stressed out."

"I think I'll be all right," I say, rolling my eyes to the sky. "Hey, Sam, did you get that new Challenger 5.1 for me?"

Sam hands me the shiny black box with the grin. "I could only get one, I'm afraid. And Katie did ask first."

Tucker stares at the shiny box, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, eyes glazed.

"Don't worry, Tuck. We can have joint custody," I assure him, shooting him a smirk. "But I get first dibs."

"Hey, that's not –"

"I am the Box Ghost! Master of all things cardboard and cubed!"

I snap the box out of the blue ghost's reach with a sigh. "Danny, fight or flight?"

Fight, Danny fights. Flight, I send the self-proclaimed Box Ghost packing.

With a grin, a flash of light, and a quick popping of his knuckles, Danny somersaults into the air and announces, "Fight."

THE END

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